


Behind Blue Eyes

by Somedeepmystery



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-03
Updated: 2004-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 110,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His closest friendship in shambles and the woman that he loves long gone, Pacey is left behind to put the pieces of his life back together. Were he and Dawson ever really friends? Is that relationship worth saving? And what the heck is supposed to do about his feelings for Joey? Meanwhile, outside forces threaten to end his life as he knows it. Takes place between JPatCR and the finale.<br/> This is a story about Pacey, his friendship with Dawson and his ever present feelings for Joey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary dramatic much? So, Dawson's Creek drove me insane and I was forced to write fic as therapy. The Pacey and Dawson friendship was one of the things that really bugged me and this was my attempt to fix it. At least for myself.
> 
> Also, forewarning, there are a lot of OC's in this story since most of the main characters are gone at the end of the series. There are also relationships between Dawson and Audrey and Pacey/Other (not an end game relationship.) While I consider this Pacey/Joey, it is more of an undercurrent and not the main point of the story.

**Chapter One**

\---

 

 

_You twist my words to ease your mind.  
Don’t stand there smiling at me.  
Don’t thinks it’s me when it’s always you…  
It's always you._

  
Give In, Sister Hazel  
  
  
Pacey Witter hooted with glee as he turned over another clump of wet dirt and uncovered more of the slimy creatures he was after. He giggled when he thought of just how he planned to make use of this really fat one. “Look at this one, Dawson. He’s a really fat bugger.” Dawson and Pacey watched the night crawler bunch and stretch its dark, dirt covered body as it dangled from Pacey’s long grimy fingers.  
  
“I think we have enough for fishing now, don’t you, Pace?” Dawson Leery asked his best friend. He looked in their bucket which was teeming with long squirming dark worms. “We’ve even got enough to maybe sell some.”  
  
“Uh uh. I need extras.” Pacey said, his grin revealing mischievous intentions. Dawson dropped his shoulders and gave his pal a suspicious look.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just cuz,” Pacey said with a shrug.  
  
“Pacey, you leave Joey alone,” Dawson said knowingly. “She’s my friend and I shouldn’t let you do mean things to her.”  
  
“Awww, Dawson, she’s so fun to scare and then she gets so mad, and her face turns really red and sometimes I think her head might explode!” He laughed again scooping up another long crawler. “You’re my friend too, man.”  
  
“I like Joey; she’s fun to watch movies with.”  
  
“Funner than me?”  
  
“You talk too much.”  
  
“What!” Pacey asked in shock, standing to his feet, his four foot, seven inch frame leading Dawson’s by just over an inch. “Fine, then,” he said mockingly, grabbing up the bucket with the worms they’d gathered and striding to his bike. “I’m going fishing, why don’t you go to Joey’s house and play dress up.”  
  
“Shut up, Pacey!”  
  
“Better yet, if you love her so much, why don’t you just marry her?”  
  
“TAKE THAT BACK!” Dawson yelled, hurling himself at Pacey and knocking him to the ground sending dirt and night crawlers flying every which way.  
  
“The worms!” They hollered in unison and, completely forgetting their fight, rushed to gather up their booty before they all escaped. When they had finally gotten most of the worms back in their bucket they let out a sigh and sat side by side, covered head to toe in mud and dirt.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Pacey said, trying to scrape some of the mud from his face but only making it worse with his mud-covered hands. Dawson wasn’t fairing any better.  
  
“I’m sorry too. Let’s just go fishing before it gets too hot.”  
  
“Ok,” Pacey said with a smile. They clamored up together, hurried to their bikes and proceeded to ride through town racing each other down the well-known streets, the familiar sound of old man Hammersmith hollering at them as they cut through his yard ringing in their ears.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
They were half way up the Big Hill, on Old Creek Rd, enroute to their favorite fishing hole, when Dawson just couldn’t pedal anymore, so Pacey dismounted to walk with him. Some older boys flew down the hill past them calling out ‘Oompa Loompa’ to Dawson as they did. Pacey stopped to throw a couple of rocks in their direction, even though he was trying not to laugh. Dawson did kinda look like an Oompa Loompa with his hair that way. Still, no one was allowed to tease Dawson but him because he was his friend. Well, and Joey too, he supposed, since Dawson never got mad at her for anything.  
  
They eventually made it to the top of the hill and jumped back on their bikes so they could jet down the other side. They giggled and laughed as the wind rushed past their flushed faces whipping through their hair and stinging their eyes. Pacey stood up on his pedals, shooting his arms into the air and hollering at the top of his lungs in a loud ‘Whoo Hooo’. Dawson laughed and yelled too, but didn’t release his handlebars. They let the bikes coast as far as they could before they finally had to pedal to keep up speed. They zoomed around one corner, than another through a large clump of trees, until they skidded to a stop at the water’s edge.  
  
“Maybe, if we catch a couple of big ones, your dad will cook them for us,” Pacey said unlashing his self built fishing pole from the handle bars of his bike. Pacey had taken one of his dad’s old poles without a reel and spent days searching the junk yard until he found one that worked. He’d worked on it for weeks, and now it proudly wore his initials carved into the handle base. P. J. W. It was his and his alone.  
  
“Maybe,” Dawson answered getting his shiny new fishing pole and following Pacey out onto the rickety old dock.

  
They baited their hooks, and cast their lines listening to the familiar plunk as each one broke the surface of the water, and sat in companionable silence as they waited for a bite. Pacey had informed Dawson of course, that good fishermen do not talk while they were fishing because it would scare all the fish away; at least that’s what his Pop had told him. Dawson said he didn’t know if he believed this or not but since Pacey’s dad was a really good fisherman, who fished in competitions and everything, it was probably a good idea to be quiet, just in case.  
  
Of course the fishing didn’t hold their interest for long, and when Dawson got up to get more worms, Pacey just couldn’t resist the sight of his heels hanging off the edge of the dock and with just one finger to his leg he sent his friend plunging into the water. Dawson came up sputtering, pushing his long thick blonde hair back from his face to see Pacey clutching his belly and laughing.  
  
He wasn’t laughing for long. Dawson pushed up out of the water, grabbed both of Pacey’s legs, and pulled him back into the creek with him. Soon there was underwater wrestling and an enormous splash fight, that had the dock, the shore, the trees, and their bikes soaked with water. When they had exhausted themselves, they climbed back up onto the dock, laughing as they laid out in the sun to dry.  
  
They talked about school starting soon, and all the movies they had seen, and what they wanted to see. Talk soon turned to the great fort they were planning to build, and all the materials they would need, what it would look like and all the rules they’d have for they’re secret club that even Dawson agreed Joey couldn’t join. After all, she was still a girl.  
  
Morning faded into afternoon and it was time for them to head home. They hadn’t caught any fish, but they didn’t really care. Every moment they spent together was like a special adventure they’d crafted themselves and today was no different.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
They reached the top of the Big Hill again and looked down the side they had come up before. This was one of their favorite parts because from this side, the decent was longer and there was a corner at the bottom. They chuckled together as they climbed back on their bikes and started down, pedaling with all their might, until the speed exceeded their legs ability. Pacey decided to try a trick he’d seen the older kids doing and put his feet up on the handle bars and his hands behind his head as he and his bike flew down the hill.  
He was feeling really proud, and free, like he was flying, the air whirling around him whipping open his shirt, and whistling through the crook of his arm.  
  
He saw he was quickly approaching the bottom and moved to swing his legs back down to the pedals so he could turn the corner. It would have been an expertly executed maneuver if it hadn’t been for one thing; the loop in his shoelace wrapped around the handlebar.  
  
It happened too fast for any sort of counter move, and Dawson watched helplessly as Pacey crashed into the hill in a tangle with his bike, then slid though the gravel and dirt before slamming into a large bolder, where he finally came to a stop.  
“Pacey!” Dawson yelled slamming on his brakes and dismounting from the bicycle before it even came to a stop. He ran to his friend, worry etching his young brow, as he took in the sight of Pacey’s body, lying face down on the ground, twisted into an unnatural position. He tentatively reached out a small hand to touch his friend’s dirt and blood encrusted shoulder. “Pacey, are you ok?” he asked, his voice milky with the tears he was fighting to keep under control. He heard a groan as Pacey tried to push himself up off the ground and roll over, but his legs were still entangled with his bicycle. Dawson hurriedly untangled them, dragging away the mangled bike the best he could.  
  
Pacey rolled over and laid himself out flat, biting his lip, desperately trying not to cry. He didn’t realize he already was. One side of his face was badly scraped, as well as his shoulder, elbows, hands and knees. When Dawson came to kneel beside him, he flung his arm over his face to hide his tears.  
  
“Are you ok Pacey?” he asked in a shaky voice. “Did you break anything?”  
  
Pacey shook his head no, but didn’t say anything.  
  
“Your face is bleeding.” Dawson said.  
  
He removed his arm and used his dirty hand to wipe his face wincing at the pain it caused, and looked at the blood on his fingertips.  
  
“Your bike is really messed up.”  
  
Pacey just sniffed, staring up at the sky. Pop was gonna be really mad.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
The two boys trudged home slowly, Dawson walking beside Pacey, Pacey carrying his broken bike, blood running from his cheek and chin. Their heads were down and a cloud of melancholy had settled over them. Both knew that they were going to be late getting home, and while Dawson’s dad would understand, they knew Pacey’s father would be irate, not only about their being late, but also about the accident and the ruined bike.  
  
Pacey’s bike was precious to him. His bicycle was a source of freedom that he valued highly in his life. His father had refused to buy him one, giving him his sister Gretchen’s old bike instead. Luckily, it was a boy’s bike, since they had sturdier frames and John had insisted. It was purple, but Pacey had never minded that. The last year though, he had begun to outgrow it, but he had adapted, knowing it was unlikely he would be getting a new one anytime soon.  
  
That wasn’t about to change because of the accident, and he knew it. If anything, his father would just use this incident as further proof as to what a screw up his youngest son was, and why it was a complete waste to spend any amount of money on him.  
  
The two boys had just reached the outskirts of town when darkness began to fall. They knew they’d missed dinner. They knew by now that their families were beginning to wonder, for though they were often late, they rarely missed a meal if given a choice. Pacey was still fighting back tears, angry, in pain, and afraid of what he had to look forward to. Dawson walked beside him looking sullen, as Pacey’s limp became noticeably worse, his forehead etched with a deep frown. He winced with every move he made.  
  
A blip of siren caught their attention and they turned to see a dark blue police cruiser pulling up beside them. The window rolled down to reveal Pacey’s brother, who was older than Pacey by close to ten years. Occasionally, their father let him use the cruiser. Doug slid down his completely unnecessary sunglasses; they made him feel like a real cop; and peered at them.  
  
“You two losers were due home a couple of hours ago.”  
  
“We had an accident.” Dawson responded.  
  
“You had an accident?” he asked skeptically, “Looks more like my little bro is the one who had the accident. What did you do?”  
  
“Nuthin,” Pacey said, swiping away the blood from his chin.  
  
“Well, are you alright?” Doug asked, a small sliver of concern showing through in his voice.  
  
“I’ll live,” Pacey said sullenly. “I totaled my bike.”  
  
“I can see that. That’s just great, Pace! Pop’s gonna have a hay day with that.”  
  
“Thanks, like I didn’t know that already.” Pacey snapped back caustically.  
  
“Just get in the car,” Doug said. Pacey simply glowered at his brother through the diminishing light. His bike was hefted on his aching shoulder, his ankle felt like someone was stabbing him every time he put weight on it, and all he really wanted to do was cry. He couldn’t do that in front of Doug.  
  
“Here.” His brother said finally climbing out to help them. He took the bike from his sibling, his eyes really surveying the damage to his body for the first time; he frowned for a moment but hid what could have been construed as concern with a caustic comment as he placed both bikes in the trunk of the cruiser. “Jeez, Pace, what did you do get up close and personal with a big tree.”  
  
“Actually, it was a mountain side, then the road, and then a really big boulder. It was like something out of a movie. I was really scared.” Dawson informed. “Hey can I ride in the back like a real perp?” he asked, his excitement about riding in the police car filling his voice. Pacey rolled his eyes at Dawson’s eager request.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
 _Six months later…_  
  
Pacey trudged through the snow, his nose cold and his lips growing more and more numb. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat and his collar turned up to deflect some of the cold wind. He rounded the corner of Dawson’s house, relieved at finally being so close to the warmth he knew awaited him inside. As had become his habit since his accident that summer, he once again lamented the loss of his bike. Even though it would’ve been a difficult ride with the ice and the snow, at least it would’ve taken less time then walking.  
  
He’d spent the day before shoveling snow, cleaning up the basement, and helping his mother dispose of the Christmas decorations. For dinner, they’d had roast beef, his dad’s favorite, and for dessert, they had birthday cake. It had said ‘Happy Birthday’ but there hadn’t been any candles for him to blow out.  
  
He thumped up the steps to the familiar screen door and pulled it open, feeling an immediate relief from the cold as he stepped onto the front porch and the wind was no longer whipping about his ears. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing he was about to see his best friend and that Dawson would make sure they had fun because of his birthday and it would make up for the way it had been treated by his family.  
  
He opened the door and walked on in, hearing the faint sound of giggling before Dawson and Joey jumped out from the living room laughing and singing a silly version of “Happy Birthday”. Dawson was singing “Happy Birthday to Pacey,” but Joey was singing “You look like a dog and you smell like one, too”  
  
They ended it with the long ending; “Frankenstein on channel nine, Scooby Doo on channel two. . .” before dancing around him.  
  
“And a pinch to go an inch. . .”  
  
“And a sock to grow a block.”  
  
“OW!” he rubbed his arm where Joey had socked him. She ignored him and used her fingers to make his lips turn up in a smile.  
  
“And a smile to grow a mile.”  
  
“Maybe you guys should skip that one. He’s already growing like a weed.” Mr. Leery said coming into the entryway smiling, followed by his wife.  
  
“Happy day late birthday, Sweetie,” she said giving him a quick hug and he couldn’t help but grin.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“C’mon! We made you a cake.”  
  
“Did Joey help? Cuz if she did, I don’t know if I want to eat it.”

  
“Hey.”

  
“Mom helped us, it’s edible.”

  
“I dunno. She hates me.”  
  


“My mom?” Dawson asked.  
  


“You’re right to be afraid, Butthead, I put cyanide in the frosting. It’s my secret ingredient,” Joey said primly, and she strode passed them.  
  
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he responded, “You are evil.”  
  
“Just stop it you guys and come,” Dawson grabbed Pacey’s hand and pulled with each word, “In. To. The. Kitchen.”  
  
“Alright, alright just let me keep my arm.” Pacey said, laughing at his friend’s excitement. His laughter came to a stop, and his mouth fell open when he saw what was waiting for him there.  
  
“Surprise!” Dawson yelled, opening his arms wide as he displayed his gift.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
August 2003  
  
Pacey awoke with a smile still lingering on his sleepy face, a remnant of his dream. Slowly but surely, reality set in. Unfortunately.  
  
The cloying scent of Kristy’s heavy floral perfume filled his nostrils and his eyes snapped open, only to snap right back shut as he grimaced and turned his head. God, how had he managed even to be near her last night with that smell? The thought that she’d probably gotten up in the middle of the night to put more on, made him shake his head. God forbid she should smell anything like the activities she’d partaken of last night.  
  
The next thing he noticed, as his senses awakened, was her weight on his left side. She always insisted on the left side, lying on his dominant hand, and his watch. Damn, he wanted to know what time it was.  
  
He lifted his head off the pillow as far as he could, in an attempt to see over her blonde head, and see the alarm clock on the night stand. No such luck. He let his head fall back to the pillow.  
  
He couldn’t suppress the small, exasperated growl that wanted to escape, but the sound didn’t phase his bedmate. She slept like the dead, and it was a good thing, because as much as he wanted her off of him, he really didn’t want to deal with her this morning. He just wanted to get out of there, get home, (or rather, his current squatting residence) take a shower and get to the restaurant. Thank God, he hadn’t been scheduled this morning at the market, or he’d be in trouble right now, he was sure. He tugged his arm a few times and Kristy rolled over onto her pillow with a soft feminine sigh. Ah, sweet freedom.  
  
He rolled the opposite way, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and used the corner of the sheet to wipe her drool off his chest before standing. He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms overhead, feeling the muscles elongate and then contract over his stomach and back, the golden sunshine that entered through the bedroom windows behind him, warming his naked flesh. He scratched his stomach absently as he searched the bare hardwood floor for his boxers.  
  
After finding and pulling on that article of clothing, he shuffled to the attached bathroom with matching décor. The pink seashells matched the pink accent pillows scattered over the bed. The white, old fashioned looking shelves matched the white eyelet comforter. And the plush pink carpet just continued right on in. Who in their right mind would put carpet in a bathroom?

  
He splashed his face with cold water and looked up at the reflection of his dripping face in the mirror. What was he doing here?  
  
Well, he knew technically, what he was doing there, he thought, as he left the bathroom and stealthily began searching for the remainder of his clothes, pulling on each item as he found it.

  
After all, she had been a fantasy of his since he was 13. When she had given him her number, he had felt sure that it meant things were turning around for him. That finally the things that he had wanted were possible. But after three plus months, he was beginning to think that the actuality of Kristy did not live up to the idea of Kristy.

  
Once dressed, he scrawled a quick note saying he’d see her later, and quietly slipped out the front door. Ambling down the hallway of her building, he took in his surroundings once again amazed that this plush condominium with it’s cream colored walls and crimson carpet stood almost exactly where his and Dawson’s childhood fort used to reside. Things had changed.

  
He made his way across town in the direction of his brother’s apartment so he could shower and get ready for work. He needed to get a head start since he was meeting Dawson for lunch, or more accurately brunch, before work. He was almost finished with his movie and Pacey was wondering how things were coming along. Aside from that, he was looking forward to putting the bad blood behind them and rebuilding their friendship.  
  
Despite Dawson’s more annoying and occasionally hurtful qualities, Pacey still remembered the young boy who would go out of his way to make him smile on a bad day. The young man he’d analyzed endless movies with at the video store. The same one who smuggled the new Penthouse to him when he’d had a really bad case of the flu. He was a dork. He was oblivious, self-absorbed and often self-centered, but when he wasn’t, he was an amazing friend. Pacey found himself smiling at that logic as he hopped up the stairs and opened the door to Doug’s apartment. He found his brother just emerging, freshly shaven, from the bathroom.  
  
“Well, there’s the prodigal little brother, just in time to cook me breakfast.”  
  
“Sorry, Dougie, I can’t today. I’m meeting Dawson at ten, and then I have to work, so I gotta get ready. I’m gonna take a shower.”  
  
“Why don’t you shower at your girlfriend’s place?”  
  
“My shampoo is here.” he said off handedly, “Besides that woman has entirely too much fondness for pink. That can’t be healthy.”  
  
Doug laughed, “I agree with you there.” He finished buttoning his uniform shirt. “I’ll just stop off for doughnuts then.”  
  
“You better watch it Doug, if you’re not careful you might lose that manly physique.” Pacey called from the bathroom.  
  
“As if you have room to talk,” Doug spouted back.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
Pacey entered the door of Leery’s Fresh Fish at precisely 10 o’clock, dressed in his denim western style shirt and the gray pants of his chef uniform. He scanned the familiar interior for his friend’s blonde head, and smiled despite himself when he spotted it. He sauntered over giving him a friendly eyebrow raise when he caught his attention.  
  
“Hey, D, how’s it going?”  
  
“Hey, Pacey. Good. You?”  
  
“Eh, I’m getting by. How are things on the movie set? Audrey driving you crazy yet?”  
  
Dawson gave a small laugh, “No, but close. I’ve filmed almost the entire thing except the kissing. She wants me to get Patrick’s parents’ permission,” he said grinning. “Says she doesn’t need any more scandal.” Pacey just laughed at that. “Personally, I think she just likes to make things difficult.”  
  
“That would be Audrey,” Pacey replied. “So, you’re almost done?”  
  
“Yep, just a few scenes left.”  
  
“That one shot, with the crane?” he gestured with his hands, “I can’t wait to see that on film, it’s gonna look great. That was a kick ass idea.”  
  
“Thanks. And it does look great thanks to you. I can’t believe you talked that guy into doing it, let alone for free. You really could sell ice to Eskimos,” Dawson said, and Pacey just shrugged. “But I guess that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing for that last year isn’t it.” Dawson couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. The very thought of money brought his mind back to that place. How could Pacey have been so reckless?  
  
Across the table, Pacey went cold. “What?”  
  
“Well, you called people up and convinced them to buy something they not only didn’t need, but also proved to be completely insubstantial as well.”  
  
“Dawson, I already told you, I was just as taken in by those guys as anybody else. It wasn’t intentional.”  
  
“Because you were so completely focused on being the big shot. You just had to sell your soul so you could rake in the cash.”  
  
“God, are we really going down this road again? Damn it, Dawson, I thought we were past this!”  
  
“I just want to know when you are going to give up the pretense and just be yourself.”  
  
“And who exactly would that be, Dawson? Because, I don’t think you know. I don’t think you ever knew! To you I was just that guy down the creek you hung around with. I helped keep the bullies off you and I made you look better, because I was the screw up and you were the golden boy and whenever you felt bad about your life you could always hold it up to that measure.” He stood and spread out his arms. “Well, I’m glad to have been of service, but I’m done with this.” He tossed his napkin onto the table, “Have a nice life, I’m outta here.” He moved from the table as if to leave but stopped before he’d gone more than a step.  
  
He was still looking away, across the restaurant when he began to speak, his voice soft and low. “Look, Dawson, I still remember that kid I was friends with in school. The guy who’d drag me to see the same movie three times, who reminded me that I wasn’t alone when my family would forget I existed. The same guy who would attack me whenever what I thought didn’t agree with his ideal. He was my best friend, faults and all. He was my brother. I know why I want him as my friend.” He let out a breath; half hopeless laugh, “God, despite everything that has happened since we started high school, and . . . there have been some pretty nasty things said between the two of us; I wanted, hell, I don’t know what I wanted, but whatever it was, I don’t want it any more. It’s obvious to me now that it was never that way for you. You have no idea why you were or why you’d even want to be my friend.” He walked away then, leaving Dawson behind looking stunned.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
Pacey all but stormed in to the employee lounge of Bonne Belle, glowering straight ahead, and not acknowledging a single greeting from his fellow employees. They grumbled as he passed them, but he didn’t care. He yanked off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it, jerked open the door to his locker, and unceremoniously threw the wadded article inside. He was trying unsuccessfully to take his chef jacket off its hanger when he finally decided he needed to end his temper tantrum and took a slow deep cleansing breath.  
  
Damn.  
  
He finally, slowly and with now steady fingers, pulled his chef jacket out and slipped his arms into the sleeves with a sigh. He was still angry, but as he began to relax, he realized he was more disappointed than anything else. He was hurt actually, more than he wanted to think or admit. He had really hoped they could pull this off. That they could put the past behind them, and build a new friendship based on the good of the old but not holding on to the ghosts of the past. Sure, they’d probably never be best friends again, but friends? Hell. Maybe they’d never even been friends at all.  
  
But they had. He was sure of that. They had been friends. They’d fought, teased and competed, but they’d also supported and encouraged. So why couldn’t Dawson remember that? Why did he only choose to remember the bad? Pacey shook his head once to himself before pulling down his cap, securing it on his head and checking himself in the mirror.  
  
None of it mattered now, it was over, and he had to work.  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for anyone who has tried to read this here and found it lacking. It is an older story and there are some problems I was thinking of fixing. Even the formatting has been an issue! Anyway, I have decided to keep it as is and just archive it here. I also may need to raise the rating... I forgot a few things about this story since the last time I read it.

All my life I've been searching for somethin'  
Somethin' never comes, never leads to nuthin'  
Nothin' satisfies, but I'm getting close  
Closer to the prize at the end of the rope

All night long I dream of the day,  
When it comes around, ‘en it's taken away  
Leaves me with the feelin that I feel the most  
I feel it come to life when I see your ghost…  
All My Life, Foo Fighters

 

“So how was lunch?” Audrey asked the quickly approaching Dawson, as he strode down the boardwalk toward where they were set up to shoot the final scenes of the film they’d been working on all summer.

“Fan-f***ing-tastic,” he said, his harsh statement belying his calm façade. Audrey just stepped aside to let him by, staring after him still stunned by the fact that the Dawson Leery had just said the ‘f word’. “So, Audrey? Are we gonna do this scene today or are you going to continue to waste all our time?”

“Um, yeah, of course,” she said, still a little put off by his demeanor. 

“Good, where the hell is Patrick? Let’s do this.”

“You know Dawson,” Audrey began, finally relocating her wits, “Todd, and all those British accented sorts of people can say the ‘f word’ all day and it sounds kinda cool and swanky, but when Americans use it, it just sounds brash and ignorant.” She held up a hand when she saw him open his mouth to speak. “Now, I’m not saying don’t use it. I, of all people, can appreciate a well placed ‘f***’. I’m just saying, you know, make sure you mean it.”

“Oh, I meant it.”

“Ok, then,” she said, and walked way pertly in the high heels, straight tan skirt and mint green satin blouse she was wearing for her role. She quickly made her way to where the ‘movie starlets’, as they’d been nicknamed, were sitting, supposedly running lines.

“You know, this is the weirdest part about making a movie,” Patrick was saying as she approached. “Didn’t we already do all the Miss Jansen parts?”

“That just goes to show that you know nothing about anything,” Harley said darkly.

“Often times, directors shoot things out of sequence,” George said authoritatively, “When it comes to the filming of a picture, it revolves around what can get done when, in what time, and for how much, more than for the storyline itself.”

“And in this case it had a lot to so with a gorgeous and temperamental, but extremely hot, actress who didn’t want to go to jail for statutory,” Audrey dropped in as she came to stand next to them.

“Well, hello again gorgeous,” Patrick said winningly. For his effort he received Harley’s elbow firmly in his ribs. “Ow! I do bruise you know,” he snapped, glaring at her in indignation.

“Places everyone!” Dawson hollered irritation evident in the sharp tones of his voice.

“Come on kiddies. Let’s get this thing done before our beloved director has a coronary. Permission slip, jailbait?” she demanded holding out her hand, the glitter on her neatly manicured nails sparkling in the late morning sun.

“Right here, Milady,” Patrick quipped, brandishing it as if it were his knightly sword. “So any time you’re ready,” he added with a look and a quick pucker of his lips, smoothly slipping his arms around her shoulders. 

“Please, get over yourself,” she shrugged off his arm, “I’ve seen all these moves before, Junior.” 

“Places, DAMN IT!” Dawson all but screamed, his voice echoing of the nearby walls, and carrying out over the water.

“Oh my, what bug crawled up his shorts?” Harley asked standing to her feet.

“I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact he’s pretty much ruined every friendship he’s ever had and now he’s making a movie about it,” Audrey cracked as an aside to the younger ones, and received a small chorus of snickering in return.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Pacey!” 

He was met with his name shouted out in a refrain of voices as he stepped through the stainless steel swinging doors, and into the now familiar kitchen, where he had started working at the beginning of summer. The voices were familiar as were the faces that went with them. He felt that he had stepped into fairly safe territory. 

“Oh what, so now he’s Norm?” asked Frank, one of the prep cooks, tall and slender with dirty blonde hair that stuck out all over his head. “He’s the ‘Norm’ of Bonne Belle?” he continued his comment dryly.

“Who would that make me?” Marcus, another cook asked ignorantly. He was short and stocky with thick hands and dark hair.

“Woody!” The entire kitchen retorted in unison.  
Pacey couldn’t help but smile. If nothing else, at least he could enjoy his job and the people he worked with for the most part. How could he have forgotten all of this? Now that he had returned to it, he couldn’t deny he did enjoy everything about working in the kitchen. Well, almost everything, he thought when he spotted the tall, thick, chesty brunette strutting into the kitchen.

“I don’t think I’m paying you people to chat here,” Sonja Reese, the head chef, cut in, giving Pacey a particularly sharp look. 

“That’s funny, last time I checked you weren’t the one paying us at all,” Pacey said off handedly as he trapped a piece of lemon grass between his lips, chewing on it negligently and grinning at her.

“Don’t be a smart ass with me, Witter, or I’ll have to have a talk with Kevin about you.”

“Well, then I humbly apologize for my rude and inexcusable behavior,” he replied cheekily, going so far as to wink at her. She had no further recourse but to glare at him irritably. After a moment, she moved on to her regular managing duties, most of which somehow had her outside of the actual kitchen, leaving Pacey and the rest of the kitchen staff to their own culinary devices, to the benefit of Bonne Belle.

Friendly banter and conversation hummed around him as he poured his heart and soul into the dishes he prepared. This was the one place he managed to be and not think about his life and how he’d screwed it up. Instead, he listened to Frank and Justine (everyone usually called her Juice) discuss the latest antics of their two young children. He listened to Sophie sing, subtly off key, some song that was stuck in her head for the day, as she plated and garnished the orders as they were finished, then set them up to be taken away by the various members of the wait staff. He could hear Marcus reciting the ingredients to himself as he worked, and the other kitchen staff discussing weekend party plans, relationship issues, and even city politics. He smiled to himself. When he was immersed in this kitchen world, he was happy. He didn’t feel quite so lost when he was here.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Cut, cut. . . CUT!” Dawson shouted, frowning at his actors, his quirky sidekick in particular, but Audrey caught his glare as well when she stared to laugh. “What exactly was that supposed to be?” he asked Patrick, feigning a calm he didn’t feel.

“It was a kiss, what did it look like?” Patrick declared with mock innocence and Audrey snorted.

“Nice try. I think she may actually need her face later in life so if you could hold back from sucking it off completely, that would be nice,” Dawson replied with a smirk.

“So, I guess we go again then?” he asked a little too brightly. Dawson tossed an amused look to Audrey.

“We’ll have to, but if you screw this up again, I’m just gonna cut it out altogether,” Dawson said, heading back to his place behind the camera, turning just before he reached it. “And that will include all the kissing scenes so make your choice Patrick. Kiss her right and show them all how it’s done or end up on the cutting room floor.”

“Come on Lover, let’s do this,” Patrick said, turning to the tall bosomy blonde beside him.

“Please, you think you’re charming?” 

“Well, my character is supposed to be charming.”

“Darlin’, I’ve met the real thing and you,” she looked him over pointedly, “fall horrifically short by comparison.”

It was Patrick’s turn to snort, as he rolled his eyes and huffed, “Whatever.”

“And. . . action!” Dawson said, watching the monitors attentively. “God, he IS Pacey,” he commented to himself as he watched Patrick suck face a little too enthusiastically with Audrey. At least this time he could tell he was trying to take it seriously.

“Congratulating yourself on your fine casting job mate?” he heard Todd comment beside him. He looked over in surprise, his eyes widening and a smile spreading over his features.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, “I didn’t expect you back.”

“Those assholes weren’t happy with my ideas,” he said. “Can you believe it? They doubted me, me and my unquestionable talent. So, I told them they could bloody well kiss my ass, I had a better offer.” He tossed Dawson a smirk then took along sip of his coffee.

“Cut!” Audrey called, pulling back and wiping her mouth. “Dawson, sweetie, I think this is hopeless.”

Dawson quickly turned his attention back to his actors. “Patrick, that was better, but still not right,” he said, “I think the problem is that you are not in the moment.”

“Oh, I’m in the moment, believe me.” Patrick said slowly with a very serious nod.

Dawson laughed, “Ok, but you’re in the wrong moment. You’re too busy thinking about how you get to kiss Audrey while making a movie. You’re not thinking about being Petey, who is being kissed by his teacher. This is about . . . You know I think that’s part of the problem.” He snapped his fingers feeling like he had finally gotten a handle on something. “Patrick this is not about Petey wanting Miss Jensen, this is about the fact that she wants him. Ok, he’s surprised, he’s aroused and he’s taking this very seriously. He’s probably thinking that punch gave him a concussion and he’s hallucinating. Do you understand? You’ve got to get out of your own mind and into his; you think you can do that?”

Patrick nodded his head seriously and rubbed his hands together as he closed his eyes and started to mouth the words over to himself, gesturing with his hands as he did so. 

“Ok, Audrey? This time I want you to kiss him. I think that’s what’s been going wrong here. Patrick, she’s going to kiss you, at first you’re surprised, and then you kiss back okay? Okay let’s try it again.” He clapped his hands and moved back to his seat.

Dawson focused his attention once again on the small monochrome monitor in front of him, watching the interactions between his players, listening intently to their dialogue.

“One thing is for sure. You’re not a boy,” Audrey’s voice purred. This time Patrick waited and Audrey claimed his lips with hers, sliding her hand up his neck to the side of his face. Patrick hesitated a split second before he kissed her back, softly at first then with more fervor, his hands coming up to frame her face. Dawson nearly giggled he was so pleased with what he saw. “Oh my God,” Audrey quoted her line, with the appropriate amount of shock, as she pulled back abruptly, her hand fluttering to cover her mouth before she turned and hurried away. Their director continued to watch to the end of the scene with thinly veiled glee before he shouted, “Cut and print!” He tossed his head phones aside. “That was excellent! Perfect! Patrick, I knew you had it in you. Good job.” 

“Thanks,” Patrick said, looking a bit embarrassed about the praise, an unusual response from him. He looked around and caught Harley staring daggers at him, and bowed his head. 

“I think there’s hope for this fiasco of a movie yet, Dawson,” Todd said.

“I think you might be right,” he responded with a smile. “Ok moving on people, Next scene!”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“So, there we are standing on the top of the mountain, with this amazing view of, what seems like, the entire world. At that point you pretty much forget about everything you went through to get there,” Frank said.

“But then you have to climb all the way back down,” another cook returned. 

“One hundred percent worth it,” Frank replied. “There is nothing like it.”

“It’s the 80 miles in less than a week that worries me,” Pacey said, entering into the conversation he’d been listening to for the last half hour.

Frank laughed appreciatively, “Those are the concessions made by the working stiff, Pace.”

“Humph. Not to mention his wife,” Justine added in, pounding her newest batch of bread dough hard against the smooth work surface sending up a little cloud of flour into the air.

“I was wondering how you felt about that,” Pacey said with a chuckle. “Although, I can understand what you’re talking about. It’s probably similar to the feeling of being at the helm of your own boat, out on the sea, watching the sun come up.”

“That is something I would like to see,” Frank admitted, smiling at the image it presented in his mind.

“No land, no civilization, just miles of green-blue water stretched out before you, the sky changing from dark grays to yellow to green.” His voice was low as he spoke. He carefully checked the dish he was preparing before holding up a finger, “and if you are lucky enough to have someone really special watching it with you, well then at that moment, life is pretty much perfect.”

As if his words had cast a spell, the room was quiet but for the clanging of cookware. The moment was broken by a sharp, pained intake of breath. Pacey recognized it immediately, it was an all too familiar sound, and he hung his head for a moment before saying. “Who gave Sophie the sharp knife?” He looked accusingly at Marcus.

“Sonja said people are more likely to cut themselves with a dull knife than a sharp one. She said it was safer,” Marcus stuttered helplessly.

“Well, Sonja, and whoever performed those studies, never met Soph,” Pacey said in exasperation. “If she even looks at that knife she cuts herself. We’ve been over this before. . .”

“Pacey,” he heard Sophie’s voice, soft and shaky behind him and suddenly came to his senses. He turned to find her clutching her hand, blood flowing freely out from between her fingers and her face pale. “It wasn’t the knife; there was something in the carrots.” She looked balefully at the white container where the peeled baby carrots awaited their role on a customer’s plate. Pacey grabbed it up, peered inside and saw the blood tinged water. He brought it with him as he led Sophie to the back room, where he dumped the whole thing into the sink. Once the water had drained away, he found the culprit; the lip to a broken water glass.

“Great, just great,” he said softly before grabbing the first aid kit and moving to work on Sophie’s hand. She reluctantly released it to him and he took in the deep open gash running down the back of her hand, blood running from it freely, the fatty tissue visible beneath the skin. He blanched at the sight even as he moved to clean it. 

“You’ll need to butterfly it,” Sophie said, leaning back in the chair, her eyes closed. He imagined she was probably concentrating on keeping the contents of her stomach in their proper place. He understood the feeling.

“Hmm?” he asked, looking her over. He took in the paleness of her skin in stark contrast with her dark hair and large dark eyes as she opened them again to look at him. He really hoped she wouldn’t throw up.

“Pinch the skin back together, and then use a bandage to hold it there, tight.” She held her hand as flat as she could, to help line the skin back up. It slowed the bleeding a little, and Pacey was able to clean it enough to get the tape to stick. He did what she had told him, taping it so the cut was held together the best he could. When he was finished, he sat back on his haunches, satisfied she wouldn’t bleed to death, and took a deep breath. 

“OK, let me go tell the tyrant, and I’ll take you to the hospital to get some stitches.” 

“Mmm, they’ll probably use that new glue stuff they’ve got now,” he heard her say to the air as he left the room to tell Sonja what he needed to do.

When he returned, he found her attempting to fill a small bag with ice, using her one good hand. He reached around her and quickly dumped the ice into the bag and handed it to her. She gave him a weak, half smile then placed it gently over the bandage he’d applied. He nodded towards the back door then guided her that direction with a gentle hand on her lower back.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“So, are you giving me a ride back home or am I thumbin’ it?” Audrey asked coming to stand in front of Dawson as he stared, sullen and unseeing at the script in front of him.

“Hmm?” he asked, not bothering to look up.

“I mean, I have a pretty kick ass pair of legs, not to mention the girls here,” she raised her hands and gestured to her breasts. “But that’s not really how I prefer to get a ride.”

“I’m sorry, Audrey. Did you say something?”

“Uh, yeah, hello, I’ve been waiting in your jeep for like an hour. You’re supposed to drive me back to Worthington so I can arrive refreshed and ready for class tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, right. I’m sorry there’s just something about the script that’s bothering me and I’m trying to figure it out,” he apologized, then laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry; I kind of get in the zone and forget everything else.”

“You’re forgiven, just so long as you buy me a coffee at that cute little soda shop I saw downtown.”

“It’s a deal,” he said with a smile.

Dawson followed her to his jeep, opening the door to let her climb in and closing at after her. He gave his key a flip as he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Audrey was content to sit quietly in the passenger seat and gaze at the quaint Capeside scenery as Dawson stared straight ahead, obviously lost in his own thoughts. That is, she was content until he drove right past the little soda shop and the iced mochaccino she’d been jonesin’ for all afternoon. She crossed her arms under her copious breasts and gave him a pouty look that went completely unnoticed.

Dawson was watching the yellow lines on the highway zip by them as they sped along in his Wrangler, but his thoughts were on his, apparently former, best friend and the last words they’d shared. 

Was Pacey right? Was he really so shallow and self-absorbed that he would have a person in his life just so he’d feel better when compared against them? He didn’t want to think so, but then that’s probably the way all self-absorbed people thought wasn’t it? Why had he even brought up the stupid stockbroker job? Why had he felt compelled to mention the money? Things had been progressing nicely between them all summer. Pacey had started to come by the set and comment on the movie the way he used to, and it had been fun having him around. Sure, Dawson was still upset about the money, but he was sure he was angrier about the fact that he felt Pacey had sold his soul to that ridiculous job for the cash and the glory. 

“Are you planning to give me the silent treatment for the entire forty five minute drive? Or is this a temporary thing?” Audrey’s voice cut into his thoughts and he looked over at her. She was leaning partially against the door and giving him a thoughtful look, her vivid blue eyes slanted suspiciously.

“What?” he asked, seeing that look.

“You forgot my coffee,” she said.

“Oh shoot,” he said, then looked around as if a coffee shop might appear somewhere near them along side of the road to rescue him from certain wrath.

“It’s ok, I forgive you,” she said smartly, then added with a smirk, pointing at him with a long fair-skinned finger. “Again. But now you owe me.” 

“I’m sorry; I guess I’m not the greatest company today.” Dawson said with a sigh, tossing her a half formed grin.

“No, you’re not, but that’s ok, it happens to the best of us,” she said, “As a matter of fact, I seem to recall a few times in the not too distant past when I was pretty much impossible to live with. So I guess I could cut you some slack.” She gave him a bright smile and he laughed in return. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she said, “You were thinking about Pacey, weren’t you?”

He sighed. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged, “Dunno, just a feeling.”

Dawson laughed self consciously, and ran a hand through his hair. “Ok, you have keen instincts. I know this, and for some reason chose to forget.”

“You choose to forget a lot of things, babe. Like my mochaccino,” she said with a snort, then added, “And you’re right, I am very insightful.”

“Okay, so tell me this, Miss Insight. Why on earth would Pacey Witter, a guy who, in the tenth grade, spit on his English teacher, then got him fired for discrimination and unethical teaching practices, decide to go all corporate sleaze.”

“God, Dawson, I can’t imagine why a guy who grew up in Capeside would think that money made you somebody. And then after spending his life being told he’s nobody why he might want to get his hands on some.”

“So, he hated all those sleaze bags so much he decided to become one?” Dawson shook his head, “I mean, at times Pacey might have seemed immoral, but he never actually was.”

“I just think he was lost Dawson,” she said softly, then turned to the window and said quietly as if to herself, “And taking him to meet my dad didn’t help.”

“He was a great cook, but he’s just never satisfied. He always has to try and get something more. Not happy with his job as a cook, so he becomes a stockbroker, not happy with his girlfriend so he…” Dawson reigned himself into a stop realizing where he was headed.

“He what Dawson?” Audrey had caught it though, and she jumped all over it. “He stole your precious Joey! God, Dawson, that was like 6 years ago!”

“Four,” he said, clenching his jaw, and gripping the steering wheel with both hands, twisting them and making it squeak. A familiar wave of anger, and something else, washed over him like old resented confidants he just couldn’t say no to. They crept into his mind again and began chewing away at any effort made to put the past behind him.

“Six, four, whatever, Dawson. It’s like you’re obsessed with her. I mean, since when does she belong to you anyway?” she demanded. “Besides it’s over between them; he ended it and sent her running back to you, so get over it already.

“You know, you said something today that was really interesting,” she said thoughtfully after a long silence had settled over them.

“Ok, and what was that?” 

“When our dear sweet little Harley said she thought this whole teacher/student affair bit was disgusting and she asked why you would even want to have it in your movie.”

“Mmm hmm,” he responded, eyes still straight ahead, both hands still gripping the steering wheel.

“You said it was crucial to show who and what people thought Petey was, and contrast it with the truth of who he actually was. A nice guy who was a little crazy and irresponsible at times, but cared about people enough to risk himself for them without a second thought.”

Dawson sighed audibly, “It’s just a movie Audrey. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Umm hmm, you just keep telling yourself that, Sweetie.” Audrey said, then turned her attention to the scenery as it sped past her window.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Pacey felt very strange driving a mini-van. At first, he’d been too preoccupied with getting Sophie the care she needed to really think much about it, but now he was definitely feeling strange. He was only 20 years old, for crying out loud, and that was way too young to be driving a mini-van. Then again, he thought, as he looked over at the woman he had gotten to know over the summer, leaning against the passenger window, still looking pale but better, these were the sacrifices a man made to help a friend.

And it did handle pretty nice.

“So, how did you know all that about the butterfly and the ice?” he asked growing bored with the quiet that surrounded them like the plush gray interior.

“Kids remember?” she said softly, turning to look at him. “And a propensity for slicing myself open like a ripe tomato,” she continued with a wry grin, and Pacey chuckled.

“Why is that exactly?”

“Many scientists across this great country are, at this moment pondering that very question.”

He gave a playful shrug, “Because who needs a cure for cancer?”

“Right,” she nodded with a full-fledged smile this time. “As long as I don’t get anymore blood on the carrots.”

He gave a small laugh then shook his head, “You know, that really irks me.” 

“The broken glass?”

“Yeah,” he replied lifting his hand partially off the steering wheel in gesture, then bringing it to his chest. “I mean, where does Sonja get off? She’s always over our shoulders, picking apart every little thing. She was running the kitchen this morning and she missed that? I don’t get why Kevin even keeps here around.”

“The perks of being his sister-in-law, I suppose,” she said with a shrug.

“God, I hate this town,” Pacey said in a deep and growling voice.

Sophie looked at him, smiled a crooked grin, and rolled her eyes. Pacey felt his stomach drop at the sight, and knew the feeling had nothing to do with Sophie. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, and looked straight ahead as she said, “Sure ‘cause Capeside is the only place things like that happen.” He focused on reading the street signs, keeping an eye out for the one he thought was hers; centering his thoughts in a more manageable direction than the one they wanted to take.

“Lexington right?” he asked when he saw the street approaching.

“Right,” she said then, “Oh wait, can we go across town and get my kids? If I’m home, I want them to be with me.”

“Sure, we can do that,” he said with a smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as Pacey turned the dark purple Town and Country in the direction she pointed, the radio filling the space with some adult-alternative music from one of Sophie’s radio presets. The song was familiar, and he hated the fact that he remembered why it was familiar, and exactly when he’d heard it. And who with. 

What had happened to him? For the last two years, he’d managed to keep these thoughts and feelings tied up nice and tight inside a little box, hidden away in the darkest depths of his heart and mind. A box that he refused to open or, most of the time, even look at. This enabled him to live a somewhat functional life. One damn kiss, in a damn Kmart and it all goes to pieces. 

Fan-f***ing-tastic.

“So, are you coming to the BBQ Monday?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts.

“Um, yeah I was planning on it,” he answered, “what is it for again?”

“Just because,” she said, “We pretty much use every excuse there is to get together, eat and be loud.”

“Yeah, I’d love to come, thanks.” He smiled at her then turned his attention back to the road. He had been to Sophie’s house several times now since meeting her at the restaurant this summer, and it had been fun. There were always a lot of people he didn’t know, and most of them were older than him, but they had all been warm, friendly, and welcoming. He hadn’t gone much since he and Kristy had gotten together, but he decided it was time to meet some new people, reacquaint with the ones he knew. Getting out more instead of spending all his time at Kristy’s apartment, or at the yacht club with her friends.

After all, he was probably stuck here for awhile.

He pulled into the circular driveway of a house that displayed a large sign out front declaring it, “Grandma’s Daycare.” He put the van in ‘park’ while Sophie climbed out and hurried in through the front door. A few moments later she was shuffling back out with two small kids in tow. 

She opened the sliding door and hoisted in a small boy, about two, who just looked at Pacey with a frown. Pacey winked at him. Next was a four-year-old little girl with light brown hair, who turned bright blue eyes on him and said. “Hi, what’s your name?”

“My name is Pacey, what’s your name?”

“Kenna. Pacey’s a funny name.”

“Yes it is, but so’s Kenna.”

“MUH-kenna,” she corrected.

“Oh well then, that’s different.” He gave her a smile and held out a large hand. She took it in her tiny one. “Nice to meet you, Mckenna,” he said, and she answered him with a nod.

He turned to Sophie as he reached forward to start the ignition, and said, “At least she didn’t call me Pissy.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The drive back from Boston was calming. He turned off the radio and listened only to the sound the road made under his tires, the sound the wind made as it pushed past his hard top, whooshing against the surface and whistling in the cracks.

He normally enjoyed spending time with Audrey, but this trip had left him feeling tense and irritated, probably because she’d insisted on spending the entire drive talking about Pacey.

He wasn’t sure why she even wanted to defend the guy. The last time they’d really talked about him, she’d still been pissed as hell about everything and now she was defending him.

It wasn’t as if he thought Pacey had really done anything wrong as far as that relationship went. Was it? After all, relationships based on hedonistic similarities are pretty much doomed from the start. But they had gotten on, and Pacey had treated her well for the most part. Aside from that one thing with his boss. 

He knew Pacey really cared about Audrey. After all. that was Pacey; he pretty much cared about everybody, took care of the people he cared about, looked out for them. He was always...

He suddenly realized what he was doing, and where that last train of thought was going, and he flared his nostrils with a frustrated little laugh, as that strange but familiar ‘thing’ gnawed at him. He wasn’t going to think about Pacey.

Instead, he went back to thinking about the movie, and how it was just a breath away from being finished. He still had tons of editing and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about a music track, but Todd had mentioned maybe hooking him up with someone he knew who might know someone…

As he thought about the movie, his mind drifted to Joey. It was only because of her that this movie was happening. But she wasn’t here to share it with. He couldn’t wait for her to get back from France so he could show it to her and get her reaction. He needed her input. He needed her opinion. The off the cuff, no nonsense candor that once upon a time she would have given him. Without her here, who could he show the film to and get the same insight? He visibly flinched when his mind answered him with one name.

Pacey.

Maybe he could afford a trip to New York to show the thing to Jen.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Kevin, I really need to get some more hours, man,” Pacey said.  
He stood in the annoyingly cheerful office of his boss, looking over at him pleadingly as the man pinned up yet another picture of his chubby, smiling 8-month-old son. He was a little shorter than Pacey; with dark brown hair cropped short to play down his receding hairline, and a natural smile.

“I’m sorry, Pacey, I understand, but there’s not much I can do,” Kevin said, shrugging his broad shoulders. The look on his kind face was apologetic as he continued. “The tourist season is winding down, and I just can’t give you more than thirty hours a week right now. I’m really sorry, but Carl and Sonja have top priority.” Pacey hung his head at the mention of the two top chefs at Bonne Belle.

“You’re sorry?” Pacey laughed, “You don’t have to room with the freak of nature that is Deputy Doug. I need, need, to get my own place, and I can’t do that on thirty hours a week.”

“I really am sorry, Pace,” Kevin replied sincerely, as he pulled on his jacket, preparing to leave. “I wish I could help, but. . .” He gave Pacey a solid pat on the back with his large hand.

“Yeah,” Pacey said, and then watched his boss disappear out the back door into the warm night air. He threw up his hands with an exasperated sigh, and headed into the crew room to put away his apron and other trappings. He was done here for the day, and he needed to go home and get some sleep before he headed to his next job, unloading fish at the market. He was moving toward the door when he heard his name called from the kitchen. He turned around and headed back in that direction. He stood in the doorway, since he was hatless, and in his street clothes.

“Wha’d’ya need, Wes?” Pacey asked, recognizing the voice of one of his fellow cooks. Wes was a short, husky guy with broad shoulders and a kind face. He was an easygoing guy who was easy to get a long with, except for the fact that he had a problem remembering details. A problem that had him continually asking Pacey the same questions over and over again.

“Which lettuce did you say again?”

Pacey dropped his head to his chest a moment, shaking it, then answered, “Arugala, Wes, it’s arugala. Write it down please, because I’m leaving, and I can’t baby sit you tonight, so. . .” He saw the look on Wes’ face and felt like an ass, of course, because he was acting like one. It was a subtle change in the man’s countenance, but Pacey saw it. “I’m sorry Wes,” He said rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, “I’m just wasted right now,” he emphasized the word with a stroke of his hand, “And need to go sleep. Maybe if you write it down, it will help you remember it, okay.” He smiled then, “That’s a study tip I learned from a friend of mine once upon a time. Not that I ever used it.” He grinned at him and earned one in return. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”  
“Yeah, good night, Pace.”

“Night, Wes.”

Pacey made his way through town on foot, his eyes focused on the ground before him. He didn’t need to take in the sights to know where he was, to know what was surrounding him. He didn’t feel compelled to gaze at the quaint store fronts with their painted wooden window boxes and heart cut-out trims, nor their homey little window displays, nor their beckoning signs offering deals to the tourists. He didn’t even need to look around to see where he was going. Little had changed in the two years he had been away. The two years he’d managed to escape. He didn’t need to look around. He didn’t want to. Whenever he did, he could feel it closing in on him. His chest constricted, and his brain started pounding. This town had that effect on him. 

Capeside was his krypton. Here, he was powerless. Not that he’d been a raging success anywhere else, but he’d felt like he was for one moment. That had been a lie, however. A cruel trick played on him by the universe to remind him of who he really was, who he would always be, and in one fell swoop, he was back exactly where he had started. 

Actually, worse considering he now had massive credit card debt. He didn’t have that before. 

Oh, he also had a car payment, with no actual car to speak of. That was nice too.

He reached Doug’s apartment, where he was sleeping, without even taking notice of his journey. Sleeping was pretty much all he did here, since there wasn’t exactly room for him. He plopped himself down on the couch without bothering to change his clothes, and tried to get to sleep. He felt tired down to his bones, a deep abiding tired that never seemed to leave and made him feel far older than his 20 years. He could feel every inch of his body complaining as it relaxed into the cushions of Doug’s sofa. 

He closed his eyes and released a long slow breath, slowly becoming comfortable. He fell quickly into a deep slumber that lasted less than an hour; interrupted when his brother returned home from work. He could tell Doug was trying to keep the noise down, catching his keys mid-jingle, and moving cautiously about the room.

“Don’t bother, Doug, I’m awake,” he called out groggily.

“Sorry, Pace,” Doug said. He sighed and removed his jacket hanging it in the closet before moving to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat.

“There are some ‘Thit Bo Sao Dau’ leftovers in there,” Pacey said, trying to resituate himself on the couch so he could go back to sleep.

“Ooo, I love that stuff,” he heard Doug say and he smiled, closing his eyes. And after accustoming himself to the sounds Doug was making, he fell back to sleep.

It seemed he had only just closed his eyes when his alarm was sounding demandingly in his ear. He started awake and looked at the clock. 2:30 am.

Time to get up.


	3. Chapter 3

Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth  
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt  
Still a little hard to say what's going on…

Still a little bit of your ghost your witness  
Still a little piece of your face i haven't kissed…  
Cannonball, Damien Rice.

 

Pacey worked with his back to the harbor. It wasn’t something he was interested in seeing. Not the little white sailboats that dotted the horizon, not the silver clouds that curled and chased across the sky. Not the sunrise.

The fish were a fine enough view for him.

He told the others that it annoyed him to have the sun shining in his eyes like that, and none of them new him well enough to know the truth. For them the sunrise made the early hours just a little more bearable, so they never complained

He deftly pulled the large silvery tuna from their crate and tossed them down the line, the cold wetness of their corpses seeping through his gloves and into his bones. His face was set, his mouth a grim line, and with his feet braced apart. He worked at a steady rhythm…pick up and toss, pick up and toss. Over and over. 

The men around him spoke in low voices, respectful of the pre-dawn atmosphere, but the number of voices still made for a mindless hum that enveloped him, enabled him to close out his surroundings, to do his job, and in his mind be anywhere but where he was, as the morning stretched her fingers over the small town. 

The greenish yellow rays crept up his back and over his shoulders, spilling onto the crate of fish he was working on. They glinted off the silver scales, and lengthened the shadows, stretching them across the planks of the dock. All the while, he remained mindless of its beauty. Pick up and toss, pick up and toss, pick up and toss. But as the light caressed his neck with its soft warmth, playing in the curls at the nape of his neck that had grown too long, he could still hear her voice echoing in his head.

“That was amazing, wasn’t it?”

“Mmm hmm. I think I could spend the rest of my life just like his. You, me and the sea.”

“And the sunrise?” she asked softly.

“And the sunrise,” he whispered into her hair.

She sighed softly, leaning into him farther. “That actually sounds perfect.” She turned and kissed him. The warmth of her lips played across his. She opened her mouth temptingly and he recklessly slipped inside.

He could still remember that she had tasted like Fruity Pebbles, and coffee from breakfast. He remembered her smile, and how her eyes looked so dark in the dim light. The glow of the rising sun reflecting off her flawless skin.

Pick up and toss, pick up and toss, pick up and toss.

Pausing in his rhythm, he wiped his shirtsleeve over his brow, and took a deep breath. He tried once again to find that little box where she belonged, where especially those moments belonged, but it was a hopeless task. The box was torn and the ghost was free. She haunted him like his insecurities, like the voices from the past that filled his head. But while they mocked him with all he was lacking, she was just there, everywhere he turned. She neither taunted nor beckoned him. She was simply present, like an invisible friend from his childhood who spoke with him when he was alone.

When he finished unloading the fish, around 8:00 am, he trudged home, soggy and smelling of fish and hard work. He opened the front door to Doug’s apartment stealthily and moved toward the bathroom to take a shower. He was careful not to touch anything, knowing neither of them wanted to live in a place that smelled incessantly of fish. 

Once in the bathroom, he stripped down, stuffing his clothes immediately into the washing machine that was located there, before turning on the water in the shower to let it get warm, and leaning wearily against the tile while he waited.

~   
*~*~*~*~

 

Dawson stared blankly at the application form in front of him, and sighed. He lifted it, clipboard and all, off his lap and gently tossed it aside, leaning back in his chair, he ran his hands through his lengthening hair.

“What’s in a name, eh Dawson?” Todd asked sitting beside him and handing him a cup of coffee.

“Exactly,” he replied taking the offered cup. I’ve got one scene left to film and I still don’t have a name. I was hoping for an epiphany this morning.”

“Could it be you’re having a problem because you’ve already made a film of similar nature and now you are basically making it all over again?”

This comment received a look from Dawson that said he wasn’t appreciative, but there was laughter in it. “I like to think I’ve grown since then. That I’m able to see the bigger picture.”

“Well, it has promise, not that I’m the best judge of such things. Music videos are more my style. Short and sweet, loads of sex and metaphoric references. Did I mention the sex?”

“Maybe I’m just tremendously nervous about entering this festival. It’s been awhile since I put myself out there quite like this,” he said getting up to walk around the living room. “I mean, I know the festival is months away, but I don’t even have a score yet. It’s nowhere near finished and it has no name,” Dawson sighed in frustration, his nostrils flaring slightly. “But if I don’t enter now, it will be another year.”

“So, enter it unfinished if you have to. These people know how to look past all that,” Todd said. He leaned back, resting an elbow on the back of the couch, bringing his coffee to his lips and stopping just before taking a sip. “You know Beauty and The Beast wasn’t finished when it was first previewed. Half the film was just a bunch of scribbles.”

Dawson just looked at him for a moment, “I have a hard time believing you’ve ever even heard of Disney let alone believing that you watched a Disney animated film.”

“Of course I’ve heard of Disney. Michael Eisner is a wonderful man,” Todd looked offended, “I resent that Dawson. I have a sensitive and romantic side too, you know.”

Dawson smirked, walked over and took Todd’s coffee away. He brought it up to his nose and smelled it, but yanked it back quickly as the sharp smell of alcohol stung his nostrils. “It’s a little early isn’t it?”

“The hair of the dog, Dawson.”

“Hair of the dog? You’re already drunk!”

“No, I’m still drunk, there’s a big difference.”

“I give up. I don’t think I should allow you in my home,” he said not unkindly. He shook his head with a small smile. Todd just smirked back at him and took another sip of his coffee.

There was a soft pattering of little socked feet behind him, and Dawson turned to find Lillie, making her way to him. “Well, look at you,” he said before scooping her up and tickling her belly. She giggled and smacked his face between her baby hands. “I can’t believe how good you are at that already.”

Gale came into the room, and sighed at the sight of her daughter, safe in her brother’s arms. “Oh, there you are, sweetheart. You scared mommy.” She came forward to take her but Lillie just snuggled into Dawson’s chest and stuck her thumb into her mouth. “Come to Mommy, sweetie; let’s let Dawson get his paperwork done.” Lillie smiled around her thumb and shook her head.

“It’s ok Mom, I’m in brain freeze and need a break.” He smiled down at Lillie. “You wanna help brother think of a title to his movie?” She smiled. “I think you might be just what I need. I’m so used to buttinski little girls telling me what I should do; now I’m having a hard time figuring things out without her to bounce ideas off of.”

Gale smiled. “Well, as I recall you were pretty fond of bouncing ideas off Pacey once upon a time. I’m sure he’d be glad to help.”

Dawson tensed at the mention of the name, but covered by playing with Lillie’s tiny fingers. Gale had been distracted by Todd’s snort and didn’t catch her son’s reaction.

“Yeah Leery, why don’t you give good old Petey a call. I bet he’d love to help.” Dawson tossed a glare in his direction and Gale raised a skeptical eyebrow at the slight slur to his words.

“That’s a good idea, mom. I’ll talk to him,” Dawson lied, not ready to delve into that whole mess with his mom at this moment. 

“Ok, Sweetie, and you’re ok with Lillie for a few minutes?”

“Yeah mom, go do… whatever it is you need to do. She’s fine right here.”

“Thanks Dawson,” she said leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. She whispered in his ear, “Is he drunk?” and Dawson just laughed.

It was a short while later that Dawson sat in the living room chair with Lillie asleep on his chest. He rested his head against the back, his eyes closed, his sister’s sweet baby smell filling his nostrils. He opened his eyes and turned his head finding the phone with his gaze. He just stared at it for a long moment before giving in and reaching for the receiver. He punched in the familiar number with out thought. They were etched into his memory to such an extent he was known to actually dial them completely by accident.

“Hello, Potter Bed and Breakfast,” spoke a familiar, deep male voice over the line. 

“Hey, Bodie. It’s Dawson.”

“Hey Dawson. How are things going? Movie coming along?”

“Yeah actually, it’s almost finished. I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Sure Dawson, what’d’ya need?”

“Well, I was wondering if you guys had a phone number for Joey in Paris. I haven’t heard from her since she left, and I need her input.”

“Ooooo,” Bodie said uncertainly, across the creek he was scratching the back of his dark head. “I’ll have to ask Bess.”

“Would you? That’d be great Bodie.”

Bodie set down the phone and walked to the back of the B&B, towards the laundry room in search of the woman he shared his life with. He found her bending over the dryer, pulling out a warm fresh load, and he took a moment to enjoy the view before speaking.

“Bess, honey, Dawson’s on the phone, he wants to know if you have a phone number for Joey.” Bessie stood up, her arms over flowing with clean sheets, and he moved forward to help her with them.

“No I don’t. Hasn’t she written him?”

“I guess not, he said he hasn’t heard from her since she left.”

“Hmm. Weird. I don’t think I will ever understand those two. One minute it’s like they can’t live without each other and the next they act like the other doesn’t exist.”

“Well, where do you want these so I can go tell him he’s out of luck?”

“Just put then in the nautical room, I’ll be there in a minute to fold them.”

“Ok, you’re the boss. Let me get Dawson off the phone and I’ll come and help you.” He dropped the sheets in the middle of the bed and hurried back out to the living room. “Hey Dawson, I’m sorry, no phone number. Do you want her address?”

“Um, maybe later.” He sighed audibly, “No phone calls huh?”

“Nope, she’s been very distant the whole summer, Dawson, so you’re not alone. I think she just really needed to clear her head.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. She probably needs this after the last five years of drama.”

“Yeah,” Bodie replied.

“Ok then. I guess I’ll just have to wait until she gets home. Shouldn’t be too long, School starts next month.”

“Just a few more weeks as far as I know,” Bodie said. “I’ll talk to you later Dawson.”

“Ok. Later.”

Dawson waited for the click that told him Bodie had hung up before he did the same. A few more weeks. He was glad, he wanted to see Joey, he missed talking to her; she helped him put things into perspective. Unfortunately, the festival application was still hanging over his head, with the line that asked for ‘Title’ completely blank.

“I have no idea what to do.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Kristy? Hey, are you ready to go?” Pacey called out as he opened the door to her apartment, using the key she had given him. “Kristy?”

“I’m back here,” she called, her voice drifting down the hallway in a flirtatious tone.

“Kristy, we’re supposed to be there already. It’s just a BBQ, you don’t need to primp.”

“I’m not primping,” she said just as he rounded the corner and entered her room. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“What are you doing?” his voice cracked slightly as he looked her over. She was completely naked, lying in the center of the bed, her blonde hair spread out around her head like a halo. He couldn’t stop his body from reacting to her, but that didn’t distract him. Not completely anyway. He cleared his throat. “Look, this is, this is a nice surprise, but how about we save it for later because we need to go.”

“Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” she asked, seductively rolling onto her stomach and then crawling toward him on all fours across the bed.

“No,” he replied but his head nodded yes without his consent as his eyes watched her breasts bounce and sway with her movements. She smiled, seeing his indecision and latching onto it. She climbed off the bed and came to him, running her hands up over his shoulders as she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly.

“How was your day today?” she asked, moving her kisses along his jaw.

“Fine,” he said bringing his hands up to run them gently over her back. “Yours?”

“Mr. Doyle is as irritating as always,” she replied and Pacey pulled back slightly.

“Did he grab your ass again?” he asked with concern.

“Mmm, he tried,” she said, ignoring his concern and bringing her lips to his neck.

“You need to do something about him, Kris; you can’t let him get away with that.”

“I can’t Pacey, you know that,” she relented, finally pulling back and looking up into his face. “That is just not an option.”

“Why do you care so much about what those people think?”

“Every one cares about what ‘those people’ think, Pacey.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do, you just don’t want to admit it.”

And he couldn’t deny it. If he didn’t care about what those people thought, then why had he tried so damn hard to be one of them? He sighed as Kristy returned to kissing him and he kissed her back running his fingers over her back in a feather light motion and making her shiver.

“Make love to me, Pacey?” She asked, inching her hands under his shirt to touch bare skin. She kissed him passionately, and pressed her naked form against him.

“Oh, I’d like to,” he said their lips still connected, “I really would, but tonight I’m off, and tomorrow I’m off. So I can sleep in and I really, really want to get out and do something.” 

“But we are doing something.” She said running her hand over his stomach and popping out the button on his jeans.

“Something different.” His deep voice was earnest and he bent his knees enough to look her in the eye. “Please, my friend is having a party. Come with me?”

“I think Little Pacey wants to stay in.”

“Little? Ha, I think not, but,” he held up a finger with one hand as his other gently took hold of her wrist as she started on his zipper and pulled it up to his chest. “That really doesn’t matter anyway, that’s not the point, because Big Pacey pretty much has a one track mind, and tomorrow you are off from work as well, so he will have all day to have his way with you. Tonight Bigger Pacey, that would be me, wants to take you to a BBQ.”

“Well, I think if I spend a little time with ‘Big’ Pacey…” she trailed the tip of her finger down his chest and ran it over the bulge in his pants. “I could convince his counterpart to acquiesce.”

Pacey sucked in a breath as she went down on her knees and unzipped his zipper in one fluid motion. Her hands were on his waistband, her fingers slipping inside when he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Stop, why are you doing this?”

“I just want to be with you. Is that wrong?”

He cleared his throat, “No…no, it’s not that it’s just... Why now? Why not tomorrow or later tonight?”

“Because I’m in the mood right now,” she said, pulling at his boxers. He felt her breath caress him before he took hold of her wrists and pulled her up to him.

“I said stop,” he said, gently but firmly. Irritation and concern were etched in his brow as he studied her face. 

“God, Pacey,” she said pushing away from him. “You never had a problem with my blow jobs before.” She glared at him sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing her legs. “Afraid you’re not up for the task?”

He gave a slight laugh, one motivated not by humor but by confusion. “It has nothing to do with that. What is your problem? Is it really such a bad thing that I want to go out, see some people, do something besides hide out here or go to your fancy Country Club dinners?”

“Pacey…” She ran her hands through the long strands of her hair. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” he asked, “You don’t have to come.”

“But I want you to stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Kristy don’t you think you’re being just a little bit selfish here? I work two, almost, full time jobs, I rarely get a chance to go out. Why are you being like this?”

“I’m being selfish?” she demanded, her face becoming flushed. She stood up and strode across the room to grab her robe and throw it around her shoulders. “You’re the one who wants to drag me off to some trailer trash party! Pacey, I mean really? Who are these people anyway? Hot dogs and cheap beer! Is that really your idea of a good time? I mean I’m Kristy Livingstone for Christ sakes!”

“What?” he asked simply, completely stunned at her outburst and the bile she was spewing at him. He took a step back before he continued. He could feel anger boiling inside of him and he fought to keep it under control. He took a deep breath, and his voice was deep and rough as he spoke, hinting at the strain it was under to remain gentle. “That’s really how you feel?” She simply rolled her eyes and moved farther away from him, sitting in the large pink overstuffed chair in the corner. “Fine,” he tossed up his hands. “These people are just like me, Kristy. They work hard for every damn penny they have, they don’t have it handed to them by their daddies when things in the real world don’t go their way! So if they are beneath you, then I guess I am too.” With that he left, zipping and fastening his fly as he made his way to the door. He resisted slamming it by a mere breath, and strode purposefully down the hallway.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Pacey wandered through the small home, chatting with people he knew and meeting a few he didn’t. He entered the kitchen, where he found Sophie being a hostess, setting out more platters of food and snacks for her guests. He smiled when she looked at him, her eyes brightening and she reached out to give him a hug.

“You made it,” she said pulling away, “Pacey, this is my sister, Jewel, and my cutie pie niece Lexis. Jewel this is Pacey, the best Chef at Bonne Belle.”

“Just a sous chef really,” he said with a shrug as he reached out to shake Jewel’s hand. She was, in so many words, drop-dead gorgeous. Her large dark eyes, were exotically shaped, and dominated her fair oval face, and would have seemed almost too large if not for the balance provided by very full rose-colored lips. Those lips were turned up in a smile. He did a quick, very guy like, perusal of the rest of her and found everything as nicely put together as her face.

“Nice to meet you Pacey, you pretty much saved my sister’s sanity when you started working at that place.”

He had to clear his throat before he could answer her, “Um yeah it’s nice to meet you too. Sophie talks about you all the time.”

“You’re right Sophie, he’s cute,” Jewel said looking him over, he shifted slightly before covering his discomfit with a cocky grin. “He looks kind of like the ex-butthead though doesn’t he?”

“Rob?” Sophie said in surprise then looked at him. Pacey wasn’t sure he wanted to be compared to someone knows as “ex-butthead”. “Um, yeah, you know, he kind of does, in the nose… and the forehead maybe?” Jewel nodded in agreement.

“Excuse me?” Pacey finally had to ask feeling a little confused. “Who are we talking about?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Jewel said by way of explanation.

“Yours?” he had to ask.

“No, mine,” Sophie answered, “Jewel doesn’t have an ex-butthead, she has an ex-asshole wife abuser.”

Pacey’s eyes grew wide at the mention of this. He had been searching the cooler for beer and had to look up at her again. One thing he would never be able to comprehend, was how a man could hit a woman, especially one he had vowed to honor and cherish. “What?”  
“Mmm hmm,” Jewel responded, her mouth still filled with the drink she had taken. Once she swallowed she continued. “He hit me; I decked him, packed my bags and got the hell out. Don’t worry, you look nothing like him.”

“Well, that’s a consolation anyway,” he said. He pointed to the toddler. “His?”

“No, Thank God. This one’s daddy is a different story.”

“Although darn near as frustrating!” Sophie tossed in.

“Sophie, don’t start,” Jewel growled and Sophie made a show of zipping up her lips, and shrugged.

“You hit him back, huh?” Pacey asked with a full grin now, seeing a woman who had over come a hardship. It made her seem even more beautiful.

“Damn straight,” she replied handing him a beer with a wink. Someone called her name and she moved away giving him a soft ‘later’ as goodbye. He gave a small wave and looked down at the beer in his hands with a shake of his head. 

He left the kitchen and moved out to the living room where he found Frank and Justine, who welcomed him into their conversation and introduced him to Graham, Frank’s best friend and Sophie’s husband. He sat down in a chair and listened to the discussion, which at the moment was about whitewater rafting. Something Frank and Graham were so passionate about, it reminded him of Dawson talking about film, Jen ranting about feminism, Jack and art, or Joey discussing books. He tossed in his two cents, which was that the both of them were insane. Frank mentioned to Graham that Pacey had sailed to the keys and Pacey ended up discussing sailing with them at length, leaving out, as he usually did, the most extraordinary part of the summer trip from three years ago. For all they knew he was on that boat alone, and that was fine by him. The rest wasn’t something he wanted to share. Then Sophie sat down and the conversation turned to philosophy and without knowing it, she rescued him from his own thoughts.

The doorbell rang a short while later and Sophie rose to go answer it, wondering who had arrived without knowing they could just come on in. Pacey leaned back in his chair and took a long drink, his second beer now, only half listening to the conversation around him. He heard her voice at the door.

“Um, hi I…I’m Kristy Livingstone. I’m Pacey’s girlfriend.” He smirked at the uncertainty in her voice, “I’m sorry I’m late I…” He could picture her face, unsure, wondering what he’d told the hostess or if she could gloss it all over with a sweet lie or a half-truth. “I had something to take care of.”

“Don’t worry about it Kristy, it’s an open house,” he heard Sophie say, “come on in; Pacey’s upstairs.”

Pacey took another long drink and stood contemplating sneaking out the back without her seeing him. Despite the things she’d said, he was feeling guilty. She had been through a lot, married young, only to be deserted by the bastard after three years. She’d gone back to school, become a dental hygienist, and made something of herself, which was more than he could say about his life. It really wasn’t such a bad thing that her father had helped her. But it was undeniable that she could be a major bitch and an unbelievable snob. Still, he had dealt a low blow. So he stayed, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, and waited for her. 

She looked up, her blue eyes spotting him standing above her, and continued up the last few steps before coming to a stop in front of him. He looked her over a moment, letting his anger and hurt show in his face. Her countenance wavered and she used a hand to push her golden hair back from her face, running her fingers through the ringlets that fell about her slender shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and he sighed leaning his head against the wall. “I am.” She lifted her hands and laid her palms against his chest, and he felt the warmth of them through his shirt. 

“Kristy.”

“Look, Pacey, I was a brat, I know, a snooty bitch at that, and I have no excuse.” She shook her head and stepped closer tilting it back to look up at him. “But I am sorry.”

He looked down into her pretty face, full red lips, large blue eyes expertly enhanced with perfectly applied make up, and smiled. She was always easy to look at. She was easily the best thing that had happened to him in the last year. Everything else in his life had gone to crap, but she was here.

“You were a brat,” he mocked, widening his eyes in mock sincerity, “a big, terrible, evil brat.” He held his hands wide in gesture, one still gripping the neck of his beer bottle in long fingers. She shook her head, tolerating but never fully understanding his sense of humor. “But I’m sorry too,” he said. When she gave him a questioning look he continued, “That bit about your dad, what I said, it was below the belt. I’m sorry.”

“Ok,” she said softly, smiling back at him, and leaning up on her tiptoes. He bent his head and gave her a quick kiss. “Sophie seems nice,” she said, reaching out for the beer, and taking a swallow.

“Why? Because she said “hi”?” he asked facetiously, grinning at her as he took back his beer. She sighed and gave him a look and he laughed. “Well, she is nice, in fact I think you’ll find that pretty much everyone here is nice, and not one of them will be offended by the fact that you are divorced.”

“That wasn’t the point, Pacey, I just thought, maybe you were tired of me,” she said softly resting her forehead against his chest a moment before looking up at him again. He looked her over once more and dimpled his chin, jutting out his lower lip in thought for a moment.

“Nah,” he replied with a little shake of his head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders just as he heard his brother’s voice boom across the room. “The meat has been effectively burned. Let’s eat.”

“Dougie? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was invited, Pace.” Doug looked his brother over swiftly. He reached out and snagged the beer from his fingers. “When is your birthday again?”

“Aww, Come on, Doug.” Pacey whined tossing his hand in the air in a helpless gesture.

“Forget the beer, Pacey, come out here and eat. Paul on a grill is easily a rival to you in the kitchen.”

“That’s just because you’ve never seen what I can do on a grill, Dougie.”

“Ah huh, right. Just get your ass out here.”

“Yes, officer.” This last comment elicited a delighted giggle from Kristy who was tucked neatly into Pacey’s side.

They moved out onto the large spacious tiered deck that dominated the back of the house. It was by far the most impressive thing about the place and revealed not only the fact that they liked to entertain, but that Graham was an excellent carpenter. On one end of the top tier, there were well-crafted deck chairs with accompanying tables, and large terracotta planters filled to over flowing with fragrant flowers and herbs, on the opposite end there was an enormous grill where several of the men were huddled, chatting and cavorting to the point it was lucky any cooking got done at all, and large billows of fragrant smoke and steam were rising to the sky. 

The chef for the afternoon, Sophie and Graham’s neighbor Paul, spotted him, and Pacey gave a wave, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“What are you waiting for Pace, an engraved invitation? Get in here and eat.” He forked a huge slab of meat and held it up in demonstration. 

“No I’m waiting for you idiots to stop screwing around and get the hell out of the way,” he said shouldering them aside playfully and reaching for two plates. “Here ya go, Beautiful,” he said handing one to Kristy.

“Thank you,” she said, eyeing the blackened meat on the grill with a hungry look. That look told Pacey that she must be really hungry, because she made it a point to make people think she ate very little. This was true, because she did eat very little, he just couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to her. Pacey had given up cooking for her within weeks of them getting together because even if she liked it, she refused to eat it, though he was fairly certain she went back for seconds whenever he left.

He had Paul give her a large steak and laughed a little when her eyes bugged out. “I’ll eat what you can’t,” he said when she started to protest. She nodded and they moved on to the table where the side dishes were assembled. Kristy hemmed and hawed over every decision, wondering how much fat in this, and how many carbs in that until Pacey had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on how absolutely ridiculous she was.

“It’s a party, Kristy, for fun, it’s ok to relax about what you eat once and awhile,” he said finally unable to restrain himself. “I don’t know what you’re worried about, you have an amazing body.”

She blushed a little at his comment but leaned in and said, “That is only because I’m very strict about everything I put in it,” and he couldn’t help but think, silicon not withstanding.

Together, they took a seat in the grouping of deck chairs. They were joined shortly, by Paul, Graham, and Frank, who sat down on Pacey’s left, accompanied by Jewel, and some guy Pacey hadn’t met yet. After a few moments, Doug also took a seat in the group, opting for a chair across from Pacey, looking him over suspiciously.

“It’s cream soda, Doug, so you can back off,” Pacey said with a smirk, lifting said beverage to his lips. 

Doug laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Just checking.”

“You’re not 21 yet?” Jewel asked beside him. He sighed and Doug gave a little shake of his head. “Oh. Oops,” she said with a snicker. “Uh, my bad.” 

“God,” Kristy said looking Pacey over. “I completely forget how young you are sometimes, Pacey.” She shook her head and took a drink of her beer. “I actually think you are the youngest person here! Except, maybe for this little one.” She wiggled her fingers at Lexis, who gave her a single brow raise from her position on her mother’s lap.

Pacey gave a soft sardonic laugh. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

“I was just sayin’. Sheesh! Testy.” She turned back to nibbling the food on her plate.

“Ok,” Graham cut in casting Kristy an ambiguous look. “Pacey, Frank and I were just telling Paul about your sailing trip, and he told us he has a freaking sail boat.”

“What?” Pacey asked, his eyes widening. “When did this happen?”

“Since a few years ago,” Paul answered adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses and running a hand over his buzzed head. “My dad left it to me.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” Pacey demanded.

“Hey, you never mentioned the sailing before; we thought you were all about food!”

“Yeah, well I’ve known you for years and you never mentioned having a boat before,” Graham said, feigning hurt. “You could’ve told me!” Pacey laughed, he was used to their banter after several encounters with it and it didn’t surprise him anymore. “And I thought you loved me!” Graham was saying, and he scooted his chair a little further away and gave Paul the cold shoulder.

“Let me get this straight.” Pacey asked once the play acting and laughter subsided, “You have a sailboat, just sitting around somewhere and you never use it?” 

“I don’t know how to sail,” Paul said with a shrug. “It’s in dry dock.”

“Is it sea worthy? Have you even looked at it recently?” Pacey asked excitedly. “We should get together and go check it out.”

“Yeah, Paul. God, I’ve always wanted to sail, but it’s a rich man’s hobby,” Frank added.

“Don’t I know it?” Pacey said. “But God do I love it. We can fix it up if we need to, and I could teach you how to sail, guys, it’s a piece of cake.”

“Oooooh, how very exciting, just what I always wanted to do,” Kristy cut in sarcastically, “Get stuck out on some little dinghy with a bunch of guys who can’t even sail.” She finished her statement by shoving a melon ball into her mouth and rolling her eyes.

Pacey just looked at her. Hard.

“What?” she demanded, glaring back at him. “I need to use the ladies room, I’ll be right back.” She walked away, smiling prettily at each person she passed.

“Another of many things I will never understand about you Pace,” Doug commented as he watched Kristy leave.

“And what is that exactly Dougie?”

“Why are you with her?”

“You’re kidding right?” Frank commented gesturing in the direction the curvy blonde had gone. “Hello. Kristy Livingstone.” And Pacey gave his brother a huge shit-eating grin, satisfied that the question had been sufficiently answered.

“Please,” Doug said shaking his head. “That makes no sense.”

“What’s not to understand here? Are you blind?” Pacey asked incredulously, then with a smirk behind the rim of his cream soda bottle, “Ohhh, that’s right. You’re gay.”

Doug let out a hard sigh and forced himself to ignore the comment. “She’s not your type.”

“Ok Detective Deputy Doug, what is my type?”

“Oh, I don’t know, smart, spunky, likes to talk back.” He shrugged, “A smart ass.”

“Kristy is definitely a smart ass.”

“No, Kristy,” Doug said putting heavy emphasis on her name, “is a bitch, there’s a difference.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Pacey demanded leaning forward in his chair angrily. 

I’m Kristy Livingstone for Christ sakes!

Pacey dropped his head then took a long swallow from the bottle that dangled from his fingers. Across from him, Doug waited quietly. A moment ago, he had seen his brother light up and then with one word someone had extinguished whatever it was that had caused the light. He felt helpless as to how he could help his brother, knowing that for most of Pacey’s life he himself had been a part of the problem, and it seemed like it was a debt he’d never be able to pay. He sighed and hung his head as well, looking up again when he heard Pacey’s voice.

“I’ve wanted to be with Kristy since I was 13 years old. She is one of the most beautiful women that I have ever seen. She could have any guy in the world that she wanted, and she wants to be with me.” 

Doug’s gazed softened as he looked at his baby brother and he nodded, leaning back into his chair. “Ok, Pace,” he said. “Ok.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“What exactly are you doing here again?” Audrey asked hearing another of Dawson’s loud sighs from the bed across from her. She set aside her book, glad for the excuse to shirk and looked at him.

“You know this dorm isn’t as nice as the other one,” he commented, referring to the dorm allotted to Audrey for her summer school classes.

“Yeah, summer school’s a bitch, but you’re avoiding.”

Dawson rolled over and stood up. “What do you say we blow this joint?” he asked clapping his hands together. “Go get some ice cream or something.”

“Ok, you’ve managed to bribe me, but don’t think you’re off the hook,” she said, squinting her eyes. She got up and started collecting her purse. “I’m not that easy to shake. Just ask Joey.”

“Huh!” Dawson said loudly, his voice like that of a man who’d just had his deepest secret discovered. 

“Ahh, am I sensing a little soul mate withdrawal?”

“Wouldn’t that be pathetic?”

“Yeah, but maybe a little sweet too,” Audrey said with a grin, she walked over and put her arm around him. “I miss her too, you know.”

“God Audrey, it’s getting to the point of being completely ridiculous, I mean I’ve gone an entire summer without talking to her before, and yet now I want to talk to her and I know I can’t and it’s beginning to eat away at me.” He looked at her with a self- deprecating smirk. “Like mold,” he said flatly.

“Ewww Dawson, gross!” she said smacking him then heading for the door. “That’s a really nice visual there. But don’t think it gets you out of buying me ice cream,” she added when she had to come back and drag him out the door by his arm. “You have instigated a full fledged craving that must be assuaged immediately!”

“Assuaged?” Dawson repeated laughing as she dragged him down the hall.

Twenty minutes later, they were licking ice cream and walking down the street in companionable silence. Audrey kept casting sideways glances at the man beside her, waiting for her moment to speak. When she heard another sigh, she took it.

“You know the nicest thing about rehab, Dawson?” He looked at her, surprise at the topic evident on his face. “You got to bitch away about your life to some person, who got paid to listen. You also had to share all that with total strangers who may or may not have been through things worse than you, but they didn’t judge, but at the same time they served to put your life into perspective.”

“Ok,” Dawson responded, then waited for her to continue.

“I can be like that for you,” she said. “You don’t have to think that I’m gonna judge you, or look down on you for whatever has you upset, just because I went through my own dark drama so many months ago.” She waved her hand dramatically and dripped ice cream on her arm, and Dawson watched with interest as she licked it off. “I mean, just because there was the whole Holocaust thingy, doesn’t mean that Columbine was any less tragic.”

“Holocaust thingy?” Dawson asked, “Only you would refer to the Holocaust as a ‘thingy’.”

“Oh you know what I mean,” she said leaning into him with a smile, and he smiled back. “Now tell me what’s going on with you. Why are you here?”

“Ok,” he said laughing. “You’ve twisted my arm.” Then he sighed and grew a little more serious. “I needed to talk to some one about the film, and you were the closest person I could think of, and I’m leaving for LA tomorrow. I’m desperate.”

“I was the closest person?”

“Ok you were the closest person who is still speaking to me.”

“He’s still speaking to you Dawson. He might be mad, but I’m sure if you’d try and talk to him, then he would talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about Pacey, ok?”

“We were talking about Pacey?” she asked teasingly. “I thought we were talking about Todd. Your luh-vah.”

“What?” Dawson asked bursting into laughter. He turned to look at her smiling up at him her blue eyes dancing with mischief and said. “You really are crazy, you know that, right?”

“Who’s sane in this world anyway?” she asked. “So spill. Something to do with Joey and your movie.” She stopped walking. “It’s not my acting is it? Do you need to replace me? I knew I did a bad job out at the ruins. It’s just that once that Patrick kid got on task with the kissing thing, he was really good and I kept having to remind myself it was just for the movie.”

“What?” Dawson choked, inhaling his ice cream and causing a cough attack. Audrey started pounding on his back.

“Nothing,” she said, “Never mind.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that,” Dawson said, his voice still wheezy from coughing.

Audrey led them over to a near by bench and pulled him to a seat beside her. “What’s going on, Dawson, you can talk to me.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes as Dawson looked around at his surroundings, trying to gather his thoughts, still unsure as to what they even were. All round them people were bustling about, kids were playing, students were studying in the grass, and the sun was shining down, turning the sky a brilliant shade of orange as she prepared for her descent into the western sea.

“She’s in Paris having the time of her life, and she doesn’t even want to share it with me.”

“She needs to break away Dawson.” Audrey said softly, “You may not believe it, but she really does. A lot of things happened to her in this last year. This is the first thing she’s made happen for herself. When she has everything sorted out, she’ll come back. No matter what, I know that you mean a lot to her, and that’s not going to change.”

“I hope you’re right, because I can’t imagine my life without Joey in it in one form or another. It seems like she’s always been there, and now she’d just… not.”

“Well, maybe this is a time for you to start dealing with yourself as well, Dawson. Don’t tell me you don’t have any ghosts to deal with.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He shook his head. “I know you’re right, I’m just not sure how to go about it, but I think this movie is a part of that.”

“Putting it into perspective?”

“Something like that.” 

“Is it working?”

He turned to her and smiled, “Not yet, but I’m willing to give it more time.”

“So you are sure you’re ok with this,” Dawson asked later, punching a pillow that Audrey had given him when she made up the spare bed. He looked dubiously at the pink sheets, accented by darker pink little hearts and stars, and tossed the pillow back down.

“Yeah, totally,” she said running a brush through her hair. “This place gets a little lonely. I don’t know why I’m the only one who ended up without a roommate. Do they not know that I crave human companionship?”

“Well, I’ll keep you company for tonight anyway,” Dawson said. “You can help me think of a title for my movie.”

“Ooo, that actually sounds cool.” She pulled back her comforter and climbed into her bed. “How about, Sexcapades by the Creek.”

“What sex?”

“Or, The Girl Across the Creek?”

A sigh.

“Romancing the Creek?”

“Audrey.”

“Oooo, I know how about Four Friends and the People who Loved Them, or even better Long Talks by the Creek.”

“I rescind my request for your help.”

“I think you should call it The Heartbreaker, because it’s about Joey and she dated every guy in the script!”

“Ok, I’m going to sleep now,” Dawson said, letting his head sink into the pillow. He shook his head laughing softly at Audrey’s antics. She was never boring.

“I’ll sleep on it. I bet I can come up with a really good one by tomorrow,” she said with a yawn as she snuggled down into her bed folding her hands under her cheek. “Good night Dawson.”

“Night Audrey.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Pacey heard her cry out, her inner muscles grasping at him as she came, her glistening naked body writhing above him. His thumb skillfully worked her as his other hand gripped her thighs, his finger tips digging into her soft skin, slick with sweat, guiding her down onto him harder and faster, until he felt his body let go to follow her, releasing a husky growl of release as his orgasm pulsed through him. 

It was several moments before he came back to reality, slowly becoming cognizant of his surroundings, the sound of her voice. He opened his eyes to find her leaning on his chest with her arms crossed, talking to him. His heart was still pounding like a freight train was about to burst from his chest, and she was chatting away. On top of that, he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. He attempted to pull back from her face, which was mere inches from his, so he could focus on her, and squinted one eye.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked interrupting her, his voice still gruff, his breathing still heavy.

“Yeah, I wanted to know if you wanted to go up to Boston tomorrow.”

“Um.” He wrapped an arm around her and gracefully rolled them both over, laying her gently on the mattress as he withdrew from her and climbed off the bed. He gave his head a shake, trying to regain some of his wits as he walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He washed his hands and splashed some cold water onto his face before answering. “Sure, that sounds fine.”

“Something different,” she called, just out of sight. He could hear her shaking the comforter, remaking the bed. “We haven’t gone up there for awhile.”

“Yeah, sounds great.” He emerged from the bathroom, still naked and running a hand through his hair. He pulled back the comforter and climbed in beside her. She smiled up at him and snuggled into his left side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, it sounds really great,” she said with a sigh.

Pacey had just begun to drift off when there was a loud knocking on the door. The sound jarred him awake and he hurried to pull on some pants and a shirt so he could answer it, and stop the determined racket. He rushed down the hallway and across the spacious living room, stubbing his toe on his own large shoe, which he had carelessly left in the way. He cursed softly under his breath finally reaching the door and pulling it open.

His brother was standing there looking grim and serious.

“Damn it, Doug, you knock like a cop, I thought the place was on fire or something.”

“Pace, listen…”

“Come on in, I’ll get you some coffee.”

“Pacey!” Doug said taking hold of his arms and keeping him in place. 

Instinctively, Pacey pulled away from the forceful grip, and Doug didn’t try to hold him. His voice shook slightly as he said, “Pacey, I have a warrant for your arrest.” 

“What…” Pacey frowned at him and took another step back. “Is this some kind of a joke?” 

Doug chewed his lower lip and shook his head, “God, I wish that it was, Pace.”

“So you came to arrest me?” he asked, and his voice cracked as he stared at his brother with disbelief.

“Dad wanted to send a whole squad over here to get you first thing in the morning.” Doug said his distaste evident in his tone. “I figured I could just come get you now, no crowds or anything.”

“Why would he…”

“To show he doesn’t have favorites,” Doug almost laughed, “his idea of a positive spin.”

Pacey’s hand clutched his belly of its own accord, as his stomach seemed to lurch uncontrollably, as if it planned to reject everything he had eaten that day. He didn’t realize he was trembling, but he knew that every muscle in his body was tensed to run, and for one moment, looking into the hallway, passed Doug, where no one else was waiting for him, he thought he might. 

Then, the part of his brain that was higher than instinct kicked in, and he knew on how many levels that act would be both wrong and pointless as his eyes met Doug’s and he saw some of his own pain reflected there. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that filled his throat so he could breathe.

“What…are you arresting me for?” he asked softly, and Doug thought he heard the resonance of a much younger and equally resigned Pacey in that voice.

“The warrant says securities fraud.”


	4. Chapter 4

_I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter…_   
  
The End, Linkin Park  
  
  
  
Douglas Witter looked longingly at the colorful display of candy as he waited for his mother to finish at the checkout stand. He reached out a small hand, touched the bright, crinkly wrappers and sighed.  
  
“Dougie, I told you, no candy,” his mom bit out with exasperation. “Now come up here and stand by me.”  
  
Doug did as he was told, folding his hands behind his back and standing up straight behind his mother. He remained quiet, even as the girls started making a ruckus over a pack of gum. Mom snapped at them furiously and grabbed their arms and making them hold onto the cart. He looked up into the grocery cart where his baby brother was strapped into his carrier, quietly observing what was going on around him.   
  
Nobody ever yells at Pacey, Doug thought, nooooo, he’s the baby. Pacey’s always so quiet. Pacey’s always happy. He stuck his tongue out at his brother and Pacey laughed and waved chubby hands at him. Dummy, you’re not supposed to like that. I was being mean, you don’t even know when someone is being mean to you. You are such a dumb baby. Doug crossed his arms and gave a short nod in agreement with his own thoughts. Pacey laughed again and reached for him, and he shook his head in childish distain.  
  
His mother started for the doors, parked the cart in the corral, and scooped up her brown paper shopping bag. A loud shriek ripped through the air, and the girls were at it again, with Carrie beating Gretchen over the head with her fashion doll. He watched as Mom grabbed the offending toy, tossed it into her bag, and then herded the three girls towards the door.   
  
He stayed behind, looking up at Pacey, who was still seated in his carrier attached to the cart. The baby was still watching him intently with large blue eyes, even as he waved and tried to get his big toe into his own mouth. Doug looked back at him with a blank expression, then turned and walked out the door after his mother.  
  
He followed her to the car, watching her walk away, then turning his sapphire gaze back to glance at the store. Someone would see him. Someone would see and come out and stop them. Any minute now, Pacey would cry and they would bring him out here and get Mom. He chewed his lip as his mother helped him up into the front seat of the jeep. He watched her climb in the driver’s seat and look back at the girls.   
  
She’d notice.  
  
He watched her shove the key in the ignition, and he put his face in his hands and sighed. He didn’t care, who needed that baby around. One boy was enough Pop said. It wasn’t his fault Mom was leaving without Pacey.  
  
He felt the car lurch slightly as his mom started to back up, and he groaned and leaned back in his seat. He glared out the window at the store front, waiting.   
  
Dumb baby doesn’t even cry when it’s for his own good.  
  
The jeep started forward and he flopped back against his seat hard, the vision of those big blue eyes burning in his brain.  
  
“Mom,” he said finally, his child’s voice sounding very authoritarian, “don’t you think you are forgetting something?” He glared at her hard and she just looked back at him impassively. “Like Pacey?” he added when he saw she really was actually going to forget him.  
  
“OH MY GOD!” and with that she was scrambling out of the vehicle, leaving it in the middle of the lane and running for the store. She was met at the door by one of the employees carrying a crying Pacey and handing him over. When she climbed back in and strapped Pacey’s carrier between herself and Doug, Pacey was no longer screaming, only sobbing hard, his lower lips trembling slightly, and his face was wet with tears, blotchy red from the exertion.   
  
Sure, now he cries, Doug thought looking at him, and he wondered why he wasn’t happy about that fact.  
  
“Damn it, Doug, you could’ve said something sooner,” Mom snapped. “Instead of making me look like a complete idiot.”  
  
Doug glared at Pacey as the baby took another shuttering breath and reached out to him. He could hear Pop’s words running through his head over and over. He realized he was gonna have to try harder.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
_2003…_  
  
  
Doug looked into the rearview mirror as the familiar strip of highway between Capeside and Boston flew by his windows. The darkness outside was rivaled only by the darkness in Pacey’s eyes, his oceanic gaze staring, unfocused out the windshield of Doug’s police cruiser. They had been driving in brooding silence for over half an hour, and Doug did nothing to change that fact, lost as to what to say or do in order to change what was happening.  
  
“Go ahead and say it, Doug, I know you want to,” Pacey jeered, finally breaking the taut quiet, his voice rough and muted, even in the stillness.   
  
His face was only visible in the occasional passing street lamp, and as they flew passed another of the nightly sentinels, Doug caught Pacey’s gaze. Two sets of blue eyes; dark ones filled with anger, frustration and fear, pale ones filled with pain, helplessness and resignation; met in the rearview mirror.  
  
Doug sighed, “Say what exactly?”  
  
“I told you so,” Pacey said, his voice a false calm. “Because you did,” he laughed, “You told me it was too good to be real. But I didn’t see it. I fell for the whole spiel, blinded by money and…” He shook his head, closing his eyes and his mouth before he revealed more than he wanted to. His voice was angry when he spoke again causing Doug to flinch as the words tore through the car. “Proving once again to you, Pop, Dawson, and EVERYBODY that Pacey Witter is still just the town joke, a complete and utter moron, and thank God he’ll finally be behind bars where we don’t have to look at him anymore. C’mon, Doug, damn it. I know you’re happy about this. I mean, you were pissed as hell when I had that job, I was making shit loads of money and Dad was actually looking at me like I was somebody for once, and you couldn’t stand it.” He stopped, his mind slow to process in his anger, reining him in as his logic came back into focus.  
  
If Doug wanted back in the golden boy slot of Pop’s heart, he wouldn’t be driving him to Boston in the middle of the night against the old man’s orders.  
  
Doug pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped, he turned back and looked at Pacey for a moment, his face unreadable, then turned back and looked out the windshield. He couldn’t deny what Pacey was trying to say. Those words were on the tip of his tongue.   
  
_I can’t believe this Pacey, how could you be so stupid?_ _  
  
_ _Why don’t you ever listen? What were you thinking?_  
  
  
  
If there was one thing that Doug had learned in his life, and learned well, it was motivation through verbal abuse. He also learned in his most recent years that it didn’t work. Especially not with Pacey.   
  
Pacey heard him sigh and watched him climb out of the car, coming around to the passenger side, and felt the tingle of trepidation he used to feel when ever Doug came at him, but quickly dismissed it. Doug wasn’t bigger than he was any longer.   
  
He scooted over as Doug opened the door and climbed in next to him. Pacey watched him, sitting there staring at his hands, and regretted some of what he’d said. None of this was Doug’s fault; it was his own. Because he was that loser, Capeside’s resident screw up, and he always would be. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Doug stopped him, holding up his hand as he leaned against the door and looked back at him. He seemed still to be searching for the words he wanted to say. Pacey waited for him, his eyes down, until finally, his brother spoke, and he looked up.  
  
“You know what Pop said to me the day you were born Pace?” It was spoken as a question, but he didn’t wait for a response. “You hear that Dougie?” he quoted attempting to recreate his dad’s gruff voice as he remembered it from that day. “It’s a boy. You’d better watch your step from now on, or he might just take your place.” He gave a disgusted laugh. “He already had four kids, and you were a surprise, an ‘accident’. Girls were easy to him; keep’em in line, don’t let them get uppity or vain. Don’t let them get pregnant.” That laugh again, and Pacey could feel it, it was something he understood because he too saw how Pop was with the girls. “But for some reason, and God only knows, he had no idea what to do with two sons. So he pitted us against each other from the beginning, or at least, me against you. You didn’t stand a chance.”  
  
Pacey groaned and leaned his head back against the cool glass of the car door.   
  
“Not because you’re a moron, or a loser, but because I started trying to cut you out from the day they brought you home.” He looked down studying his nails for a moment collecting his thoughts. “What I’m trying to say here, Pace, is that I’ve never been much of a brother to you, even when I was old enough to know better... and it was my loss. I am the moron, I am the loser.” He waited until Pacey looked at him again before he continued. “But I want to make up for that now. Because the simple fact is, Pop can’t love us both the same at the same time, he just doesn’t know how, but you and I, we are brothers. And I want to have that.”  
  
“Doug, you don’t…” Pacey started, his voice brimming with emotion, but Doug interrupted him.  
  
“Whatever this is, however it plays out, I’m on your side,” he said emphatically. “You just made a mistake Pace, you were trying to make the best of your life and you just took a wrong turn.”  
  
“You told me, Doug, you said it was too good to be true,” Pacey choked, knowing it was anger and frustration that clogged his throat, because it couldn’t be tears. “I should’ve listened to you.”  
  
“I hadn’t earned the right to be heard in your life, Pace, and maybe I was right but the way I went about it was wrong. But I am here right now, and no matter the outcome,” he reached forward and grabbed Pacey’s knee, grabbing his attention with it. Their eyes once again met and he said, “I’ve got your back.”  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Doug helped Pacey out of the back of the squad car in front of the 27th District station of the Boston P.D., slipping the handcuffs on at the last possible moment and giving Pacey an apologetic look.   
  
Pacey was actually getting a little tired of that look. This is what he deserved, after all. He had convinced all those people into buying worthless stock. He had never asked questions or challenged authority; he’d just towed the line and done what he was told. One damn time in his life and look where it had gotten him.  
  
“Pacey Witter,” Doug said at the front desk, handing over the paper work. The officer looked them over and nodded tipping his head in the direction of the bullpen. If he noticed the name pinned to the deputy’s chest was the same as the perp he was bringing in, he didn’t say anything and Doug pushed past the swinging gate. He followed a female officer to a desk just inside, where a disheveled looking detective with spiky blonde hair was sitting with his feet up.  
  
“Detective Kowalski, this is the Deputy from Capeside; he just brought in Witter, the securities fraud.”  
  
The detective looked up and looked them over before nodding, “Yeah, yeah,” he responded in a slight accent neither Witter could quite place.  
  
“You’re the liaison with the Division guy.”  
  
“Sure, I’m on my way to get the paper work right now can’t you see me walking?” he asked standing to his feet.  
  
She lifted an eyebrow at him.   
  
“Just go book this shmuck. You do your job, Thatcher, and I’ll do mine.” He strode off and Officer Thatcher turned to Pacey, taking him by the arm to lead him away.  
  
“Hold on a sec, alright?” Doug asked then leaned in close to Pacey. “Don’t say anything you got it? Just keep your mouth shut until I can get a lawyer in here.”  
  
“Doug…” Pacey started to shake his head but Doug cut him off.  
  
“Not one word. I’ll be back up here tomorrow as soon as I can.” He nodded and Pacey was led away, staring back at Doug for a long moment before he withdrew once again and seemed focused on his feet instead.   
  
Doug turned back to the desk to find Detective Kowalski standing there with a pile of paperwork in his hands.  
  
“Arrested your own brother huh?” the detective was saying beside him, “Yeah, you’re a really swell guy.”  
  
“It’s not like that,” Doug said his eyes returning to focus on the corner Pacey had disappeared around, surprised by the measure of his desire to follow after and take him home. He clenched and unclenched his fists, holding back the feeling of helplessness that threatened to overtake him.  
  
His mind was filled with memories of his brother who had gone from a once quiet, happy baby, to a child who got into trouble at every turn just so someone would notice he existed, to a young man trying to find his way in life on a path with no road signs. He’d taken a deceptive path, one that led to this place, and there was nothing Doug could do to change it.  
  
He is all grown up and it’s not my fault he’s in here, Doug thought as he closed his eyes trying to block out all thoughts of what was to come, of all that could happen.  
  
There were no pudgy baby cheeks, or chubby hands to reach out to him, but those blue eyes were the same, and Doug was pretty sure that look would be burned in to his brain for the rest of his life.   
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Audrey pulled open the door to her dorm room. “Hello…” she sang then stopped short when she saw who it was. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you, especially this godforsaken early in the morning. You never come here, what’s going on?”  
  
Bessie smiled at Audrey, and tapped a long thick envelope against her own palm. She was still a little upset about Audrey’s behavior over the past year, but she was trying to forgive her. The problem was, in Bessie’s book, people didn’t really change; they usually stayed the same and kept repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Like her father. She looked the bubbly blonde up and down then held out the envelope. “Joey wanted me to give you this,” she said.  
  
“Why didn’t she just send it here?” Audrey asked taking the offered item and looking it over. “She knows I’m stuck here in summer school hell. And I can’t believe she doesn’t write me all summer but sends me something now, when she’s gonna be home in like, a few weeks.”  
  
“Actually, I think that’s why she’s sending it now,” Bessie said.  
  
“Did I hear some one mention Joey?” Dawson’s voice said, from inside Audrey’s dorm room, and Bessie’s eyebrows shot half way up her forehead. She pushed back the door revealing the familiar young man still toweling off his damp hair.  
  
“Dawson? What are you doing here?” Bessie demanded, her voice giving away her suspicions.  
  
“Hey Bessie,” Dawson said blushing slightly. “I uh, I’m leaving today, and Audrey’s coming with me to the airport. I had some business here in Boston last night, and didn’t see much point in going all the way back to Capeside, just to turn right back around for an early morning flight.”   
  
“Ok, well I guess it’s a good thing you are here then, because I can do this in one shot.” She strode into the room and sat down on Audrey’s bed. “Joey is not coming back from France.”  
  
“What?” the two other people in the room with her practically screamed in unison.  
  
“What about Worthington? What about school?” Dawson demanded.  
  
“What about me, I need her here,” Audrey said with a pout. She was only half kidding.   
  
“Joey is not quitting school, she applied for a fellowship over the summer, and apparently she won it. She’ll be staying there for a year studying Arts, Literature, and Humanities,” Bessie said, purposefully trying to avoid looking at Dawson. She could feel his shock from where he was sitting five feet away. “It’s a Worthington supported program,” she finished trying for some kind of closure to the moment. It didn’t come. The air was still thick with distress and unasked questions.  
  
“A year?” Dawson managed to squeak out. What the hell was he going to do without Joey for a year? He stopped himself. What was he saying? Joey had just won this fellowship, which had to be a big deal, and he was thinking about himself. He really was a totally self-absorbed jerk. Just like Pacey said.   
  
Nope. Not thinking about Pacey, he reprimanded himself internally.   
  
“Wow,” Audrey said. “That’s really cool. She must be really proud.” Her flat tone contradicted her words as she plopped down on the other bed.  
  
“Yeah,” Dawson agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s really great. I mean, of course Joey won it. She can do anything she sets her mind to.” One hand seemed to pull free and shove itself through his hair of its own accord. “I haven’t talked to her. I can’t even say congratulations or anything and…”  
  
“I’m sorry, Dawson,” Bessie said. She definitely didn’t agree with her sister cutting everyone off the way she had, but she could understand to a certain degree. With everything that had gone on over the last few years, Joey needed some time with herself.   
  
  
  
_Somewhere along the line, I must’ve taken a wrong turn or something, because I look in the mirror some days, I look around at my life, and I don’t even recognize myself! What happened to that girl who wouldn’t put up with crap from anyone?_  
  
  
  
“Did she give you an address to write to her?” he asked, cutting into Bessie’s thoughts of Joey.  
  
“Yeah,” she said, heard his sigh of relief, and regretted that she had to continue. “She asked me not to give it to you.”  
  
“What?” It wasn’t yelled, it was said flat, and disbelieving.  
  
“She asked me not to give her address to anyone, especially not you or Pacey,” Bessie informed him regretfully. She had a feeling this was really going to freak Dawson out.  
  
It was Dawson’s turn to sit. He blindly grabbed the chair from Audrey’s desk and sat, turned away from Bessie, toward the window. She didn’t want him to write her? She didn’t want him to write her. Apparently, this trip was more about getting away than he had first thought.   
  
“Ok. Well I guess that’s that,” Dawson said, giving a small, deprecating laugh. He stood and gathered his things, putting what he had used away and actively ignoring Bessie. He had no idea what he wanted to say to her. He was hurt, even a little angry, but not at her, so he decided not to say anything.  
  
“I’m really sorry, Dawson,” she said again, and got up to leave. “Goodbye Audrey. It was nice to see you again,” Bessie said courteously before stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it and sighed. That had been a bit draining. When her sister came back from Paris, she was going to kick her ass for making her do her dirty work for her.   
  
And God help her, she still had to tell Pacey.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Well, here I am off again to Lala Land,” Dawson said. He and Audrey were standing just in front of the monitors and saying goodbye.  
  
“Say hello to the land of Sunshine for me.”  
  
“And your parents?”  
  
“No, God no. They’ve called me like, what? Once, twice since I got out of rehab.”  
  
“Are you sure this is all right?” he asked hiking his messenger bag higher up onto his shoulder. “Me, staying with them. Especially if you aren’t getting along.”  
  
“Please,” she made a pfftting sound and waved her hand at him. “They won’t even notice you are there! They are putting you in the guesthouse in Malibu, we stayed there last summer. I think they are trying to bribe me into staying on the straight and narrow, so they’ll do anything I ask. They’ll have you up to the main house for dinner the first night, and after that they’ll forget all about you.”  
  
“Ok, well, I really appreciate this, you have no idea,” he said, “this is gonna save me a lot of money, and I’m going to need it. I still have so much to do on this movie and I’ve depended on too many favors so far. I don’t want to press my luck.”  
  
“You know, Dawson, I have a really good feeling about this movie. Like it was destiny or somethin’,” she said, her eyes widening on the word ‘destiny’. “I mean who knows what’s gonna happen, but whatever it is, I think it will work out in the end.”  
  
“I hope so, Audrey. I have a feeling like this is my last shot, and if this doesn’t work then that’s it. I’m all out. Something about this film feels really important.”  
  
“Well, I have faith in you, Dawson,” she said, patting his arm. “If you need anything, anything at all you make sure you call me and I will be there for you, ok.”  
  
“Ok,” he said with a smile, “You do the same, alright?”  
  
“You got it,” and with that, she leaned up and gave him a big kiss right on the mouth. He felt it tingle down his spine and quiver slightly in his knees. She pulled back and smiled.   
  
He gave her a shocked look. “What was that for?”  
  
“Well,” she said with a shrug. “Nobody should leave on a plane without a kiss goodbye; it might be your last.” She didn’t quite manage eye contact with him when she spoke.  
  
“Please don’t say things like that, Audrey. Besides, I’ve flown plenty of times now, and it’s no big deal.”  
  
“Ok. But only because I don’t want to think about the alternative,” she said. “I kinda like you, ya know.”  
  
He looked at her slyly, “I kinda like you too, Audrey.”  
  
“Ok, ok, enough with the dramatics.” She pulled him into a big hug then pushed him in the direction of the security check. “Get out of here, go, finish that movie and become the big famous director we all know you can be.”  
  
“Bye Audrey!” he called, and hurried on his way, but he looked back at her a few more times before he disappeared from sight.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Pacey clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward, resting his upper arms against the edge of the dented metal tabletop while his eyes studied it. He wondered if he were to stare hard enough, and long enough, if he would be able to burn words into it. But what words would they be? Words of anger, hate or desperation? He didn’t know, because he was trying desperately not to feel, not to think.   
  
Pacey could feel himself on the threshold though, over looking a vast roiling blackness, and he didn’t want to go there, he didn’t want to fall into it, but the ground beneath him was crumbling. He chewed his lips and clasped his hands together even harder, tighter, his fingers, already cold from restricted blood flow, protested in pain, but he ignored it. Next to him, a man in a suit, a very expensive suit if Pacey wasn’t mistaken, was yelling at him. Asking him question after question, trying to break him. In the corner, another man sat idly by watching, taking notes of some kind and every once in awhile the two would confer then “Number Two” as Pacey had started calling him in his mind, would return with the same questions in a different tact.  
  
He continued to stare at the tabletop. He never even flinched. Little did they know, he thought, that he had been training for this his whole life. How many times had he sat at the kitchen table at home, staring at the faux marble, while his Pop went on some tirade or other? More times than he could count.  
  
Of course, he hadn’t been in a police interrogation room, surrounded by the same putrid green walls on all sides, with unstable, flickering fluorescent lighting overhead, about to be put in jail.   
  
He had told them from the beginning that he wouldn’t talk to them without an attorney, but they continued to push him. He knew they were pushing the limits of legality, if not breaking them, but what was the point of arguing.   
  
There was one thing they kept asking him that he was finding hard not to comment on.  
  
“Where’s the money?”   
  
What in the hell were they talking about? He didn’t have any money. If these people were who he thought they were, then they probably knew what was in his account to the last dime, which was a fairly accurate description. He paid every dime he made to the debts he’d incurred while employed at Remmick Luers. The most valuable thing he owned was a closet full of suits, which he couldn’t sell even on consignment.   
  
Men who wear Armani suits don’t like buy them secondhand.   
  
Just when he thought he’d had enough, just when he was clenching his fists and glaring maliciously at the interrogator’s jaw, the door opened and a woman stepped inside with an air of confidence and annoyance emanating from her. She was short and busty, with large dark eyes, shoulder length dark hair, that was artfully highlighted around her face, and a Kewpie-doll mouth that was painted a deep wine color, and pursed in irritation, “Excuse me? What do you think you are doing?” she asked in a voice he hadn’t been expecting, and he raised his eyebrows at the unusual sound.  
  
“Uh, um,” stammered the man who’d been leaning into Pacey, asking him about the money again trying to sound friendly. Might’ve worked if they hadn’t already arrested him.   
  
“Albrecht,” breathed the man Pacey had noticed in the corner, the one who had been sitting back, watching with muted interest as his partner had queried him endlessly through the wee hours of the morning.  
  
“Elliot, I really expected more from you,” she said, her childlike voice odd with the authoritative statement.  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with a shrug.  
  
Pacey just looked on in confusion, too exhausted to really think straight, as his inquisitor looked over at ‘Number One’ and gestured toward the intruder incredulously. “Who’s this chick?”  
  
“Excuse me? Did you just call me a chick?” Pacey almost laughed at the look of indignation on her face. He could tell from the moment she entered the room that she wasn’t one to take kindly to being call a chick. Honey, babe or girly probably wouldn’t go over well either.   
  
“My name is Meggie Albrecht, and I am Mr. Witter’s attorney.” She turned to Pacey with a smile. She made him feel oddly safe with that smile and he gave her a weak one of his own in return. “Or rather I will be, as soon as he and I confer.” She turned back to the officer who had escorted her to this room, “Please have him moved to a secure and private room. Elliot, you and your stooge may leave now.”  
  
“Could you please use an ounce of professionalism and call me Nuzback, or counselor?”  
  
“You want professionalism, Elliot Nuzback? Then you should’ve acted in a professional manner. I would bring this up to your superiors if I thought I had a chance of proving your behavior.”  
  
“You assume they’d care,” he said softly.  
  
“They’d care when I had the case thrown out for violation of ethics.”  
  
Nuzback just smirked at her then turned to his associate. “Call in the officers and let them know we are finished for now.” He moved gracefully to a standing position and gave Pacey a nod, “I’ll be seeing you again soon Mr. Witter, and be assured, I will find the money. I always do.”  
  
Pacey watched the two men leave with a dark look; he would’ve been using his thoughts to curse them if he wasn’t so busy trying to figure out what money they were talking about. He turned to the woman who had effectively rescued him, for the moment at least, and for lack of anything better, he said, “Hey.”  
  
She smiled in return as the door opened and two officers stepped in and helped Pacey to his feet. Once standing, it became even more evident to him how tired he was; he’d stayed up late and hadn’t even really fallen asleep before Doug had arrived to take him away. He wondered for a moment what Kristy had thought when she woke up and he wasn’t there. He realized he should’ve woke her up and let her know what was going on, but that wasn’t really a conversation he wanted to have. Especially not with Kristy. Her reaction would be less than helpful, he was sure.   
  
A small part of him wished she would come, visit him, support him, but his pragmatic side told him it wasn’t going to happen. The simple fact of the matter was, he was alone in this. His friends were all gone, some in more ways then one, and though he’d believe it right that they all start moving in their own directions, he couldn’t help but think that maybe having a few people around to be there for you while crafting your new life might not be such a bad thing. It was too late for these thoughts now..  
  
He trudged down the hallway with an officer at each elbow. The long condemning corridor had been painted the same drab green as the interrogation room, but the floor, a cheap peel and stick tile, was his main focal point. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the cafeteria floor of Capeside High School. He could hear the clip clop of the lawyer’s high heels as she walked behind them, hear her voice as she greeted someone every once in awhile, making it known to him that she had been here many times before this.  
  
The officer on his left side slowed to a stop in front of a slightly darker green door, and Pacey followed suit, standing patiently while the door was opened and he was ushered inside. He was led to a minimalist metal chair and seated at a large table similar to the one he’d been seated at before. Just different dents.  
  
Meggie Albrecht sat down opposite him in a similar chair, setting her briefcase down on the table top in front of her. She turned to the officer that had led them there.   
  
“Bring in some coffee and some breakfast,” she said soft and succinct, but the order behind the words was heard loud and clear, and Pacey got the impression that very few people said ‘no’ to Meggie Albrecht. She turned back to him after the door had been closed and once again gave him that smile, and once again, it held a warmth that made him feel at ease. He noticed, for the first time, the slight graying of her hair at the temples and wondered if she were older than he’d first assumed, though neither her full face or dark inquisitive eyes held any telltale signs of age.  
  
“So, Pacey, you are probably wondering who the heck I am and what am I doing here,” she said opening up the briefcase and pulling out some files and a yellow note pad, placing them in front of her, she closed the case and set it on the floor next to her chair. He just smiled at her, a small smile, the most he could muster through the feeling of heaviness that seemed to penetrate every cell in his body right down to his soul. “Well,” Meggie continued, “I am from the public defender’s office, and I was sent down here to be on your side. Do you need a lawyer, Pacey?”  
  
Pacey felt his heart sink as he nodded his head. Somehow, he didn’t think a public defender would be enough to help him in this mess.  
  
“Well, that’s what your brother said when he called me.”  
  
That bit surprised him and his eyes widened, “Doug talked to you?”  
  
“Mm hmm,” she said writing a few things down on her pad, “Doug said he needed me to take care of you, so here I am.”  
  
“You know Doug?”  
  
“Yeah, I think that was established in that statement.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“A couple of years ago a close friend of his got himself into trouble and I defended him.”  
  
Pacey had to think on that one; he actually didn’t know any of Doug’s friends. He had only known a few of the other guys on the force that he hung out with occasionally. Of course, he had just discovered the other day that he seemed to be friends with Graham and Sophie. Most of the time he’d lived with Doug, he’d been too caught up in his own dramas to take notice of his brother’s social life.  
  
“So,” he asked unsurely, “you’re pretty good at this?”  
  
“I don’t totally suck,” she said with humor, and managed to get a slightly fuller smile out of Pacey. “Do you know what they are charging you with?”  
  
“Doug said something about securities fraud,” Pacey said. “I guess it has something to do with Stepitech and my job at Remmick Luers Brokerage House. A lot of people lost a lot of money on that stock, and I sold it to them. Good ol’ Pacey Witter, town screw up. In more than one town.” He gave her a sardonic smile. “Do you suppose that is some kind of a record?”  
  
“How old are you Pacey?” she asked quietly.  
  
“Twenty,” he replied. “Twenty-one in January.”  
  
“How did you get this job?”  
  
He laughed, “Through…through my girlfriend’s father.”  
  
“A Mr. Liddell?” Pacey chewed his lip tensely and nodded. “Well, Pacey, the bad news is, these are very serious charges. Wire fraud, special treatment, and conflict of interest, insider trading, and conspiracy. A conviction on any of these would put you in prison for a very long time, and would usually lead to a conviction in the others as well.”   
  
Pacey sighed and once again found himself gripping his hands together under the table. He pulled them apart and rested them palms down on his Dockers-clad thighs. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to abate the intense stinging behind his lids, to halt the pounding in his brain, and it seemed like hours before she continued though, it was only a moment.  
  
“Also, these people usually take as much time as possible to gather their evidence. The fact that they’ve arrested you already, is not a good sign,”   
  
Pacey swallowed convulsively and his fingers began digging into his thighs through the soft material of his slacks. “The good news is,” she continued, and Pacey unconsciously shook his head, knowing there was no good news, there couldn’t be. “These things are very difficult to prove beyond reasonable doubt. But if we are going to beat this thing I need you to be completely honest with me,” she said and he looked up at her, waiting for the questions he knew would come. “What did you do with the money?”  
  
Pacey practically leapt to his feet, slamming his fist onto the table top. “What fucking money!?” he demanded with such force that Meggie drew back in her chair. He shook slightly, the exertion costing him much of what little strength he had left, and the realization of his action shamed him as he pulled back, falling into his chair and dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t have any money,” he said quietly, his voice thick, cracking slightly. “I lost everything. When Stepitech didn’t gain FDA approval, and that stock dropped. I lost everything I had worked so hard for, for so long.” He brusquely wiped his face with his sleeve, and glared coldly at the table. “And I’m not just talking about money.”  
  
Meggie was quiet, but she leaned forward in her chair again and rested her folded arms on the table. She seemed to study him quietly for a long moment. He dark eyes were searching him, but when he finally dared to meet them, he found kindness there and is surprised him. She reached over to the files she had beside her, pulled one out, and opened it. She cleared her throat and spoke, “According to the files I was able to get from the Massachusetts Securities Division, all of the stock you had invested in Stepitech was sold just before the market closed the day before the FDA’s ruling.”   
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
The loud pounding on his front door grew more insistent, finally rousing him from his deep slumber. He rolled over and turned his alarm clock around so he could see the face. It read 6:00 am.  
  
“Damn,” he sighed as his father’s gruff booming voice reverberated through the small apartment.  
  
“Douglas Witter, get your ass out here right now!” The pounding resumed once the words were shouted and Doug resigned himself to answering the door. He couldn’t afford to lose this apartment because of neighbor’s complaints. The only other choice of living quarters was unacceptable.   
  
He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants, and began searching his closet for a shirt, all the while steeling himself for the confrontation that was only moments away. If he were lucky, he’d only loose his job. He might be taller than his dad now, but he was still pretty sure John Witter could kick his ass six ways to Sunday.  
  
He threw open the door, his shirt only half buttoned, and glared at his father. “There are other people living in this building you know. Have you ever heard of disturbing the peace?”  
  
“Don’t you get smart with me, Doug. What do you think you were trying to pull hauling Pacey down to Boston behind my back like that? I told you what the plan was.”   
  
Doug sighed and shook his head, stepping aside so his father could enter. “I couldn’t let you do that Pop. Pacey has to live in this town and he has enough he’s up against without that fuel added to the fire.”  
  
“Pacey’ll be lucky if he’s living anywhere outside of a federal penitentiary if any of those charges stick.”   
  
“Pop, you know…”  
  
“I know that kid will never learn his lesson unless he is forced to deal with the consequences of his actions.”  
  
“Is that what you think Pacey’s problem is; he hasn’t had to face the consequences of his actions? I think you haven’t been paying attention.”  
  
“I think it’s you who hasn’t been paying attention, Doug. I’m the sheriff in this town, and I’ll decided when and how we arrest wanted criminals here, my son or not,” John said, pressing his finger hard into Doug’s chest.  
  
“Pacey will have to face the consequences for his actions Pop, from the law.”  
  
“I am the law.”  
  
“In this case, you shouldn’t be. You’re not,” Doug said, taking a deep breath. “You’re his father. And you were fawning all over him when he was working at that job, making money hand over fist, you were so proud of your son the big time stockbroker. You never told him to be careful; you never tried to warn him, so you have no right to turn your back on him now.”  
  
“You better watch what you say to me Doug, I’m your father and I expect respect outta you.” He sat down on Doug’s sofa and looked up at him meaningfully, “I could have you fired.”  
  
Doug held his arms out to the side. “Fine. You want to fire me Pop? Go right ahead, I’m sick and tired of fighting for my place in this family.” He laughed coldly, as he finished buttoning his shirt, shaking his head. “You gonna pick Pacey over me now, even though he’s in jail?” he asked, pocketing his keys and looking his father over with distain. His father just stared back at him with surprise. “Well it doesn’t matter, because today I’m choosing him over you.” He opened the door and walked out, closing it quietly behind him, leaving his father sitting in stunned silence on his couch.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Kristy answered the door groggily wrapping her robe around her scantily clad body. She squinted at the familiar face before her. “What’s going on, it’s really early and I don’t have to work today, I was hoping to sleep in.”  
  
“Kristy we need to talk,” Doug said ignoring her comment and wondering if she had even noticed Pacey’s absence.   
  
She frowned, “Why?”  
  
Doug sighed grasping for patience, “May I come in?” Kristy shrugged and stepped aside letting him walk into the living room. The carpet was a deep burgundy, the walls a coordinating rose, and the furniture was a soft cream with burgundy and rose pillows. He raised his eyebrows. Entirely too much fondness for pink.  
  
Kristy walked to the kitchen and began fumbling about with the coffee maker, swearing harshly when it didn’t do as she wanted. After a few moments, she seemed to have achieved some success, because she returned to the living room where Doug was waiting.  
  
“Ok, you wanted to talk, get on with it,” she said plopping down in one of the wing backed chairs, and crossing her legs. “Pacey’s not here you know.”  
  
“Yeah, I know, I arrested him last night and took him to Boston,” Doug snapped loosing all desire to drop the bomb gently.  
  
“What?” she asked standing to her feet. “You what? You arrested Pacey? You arrested your own brother?” she asked, pacing around the room. “What on earth for?”  
  
“There was a warrant out for his arrest, securities fraud apparently.”  
  
“From the stockbroker job?” she asked in confusion, she started chewing her thumbnail, strode back into the kitchen, and began searching the fridge for something. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, her voice strained, and Doug knew the question was born more of the years of childhood training she’d been subjected to rather than any true feeling of obligation. Her socialite manners were breaking to the surface now that she was more fully awake.  
  
“No, thank you.”  
  
“Good, more for me.” She opened the freezer, pulled out a bottle of Absolut, and twisted off the top. She brought it to her lips and took a long drink. When she lowered the bottle, Doug was standing beside her in the kitchen, causing her to jump slightly.  
  
“I don’t really think alcohol is going to help this situation,” he said taking the bottle from her, capping it and placing it back in the freezer. “I’m going up there to see him, and I think you should come with me.”  
  
“What?” she asked looking at him like a deer in the headlights. Then she shook her head and moved away from him, “No. No. I don’t think so.”  
  
Doug looked at her fiercely, “Why not? You are his girlfriend; don’t you think he needs a little support from you right now?”  
  
“I can’t go see Pacey in jail,” she whined. “How depressing would that be?” She walked back into the living room, plopped back down into her chair, and let her head fall back dramatically. “I can’t believe this is happening.”  
  
“Well, you better believe it Kristy because it is, and Pacey needs you right now.”   
  
“What about me?” she asked angrily, “I just started getting past all the divorce stigma forced down my throat in this backwater little town, and now I’m dating a potential convict?” She clenched her teeth together and let out an aggravated little scream, pounding her fists on the chair arms.   
  
She stood up suddenly, and looked over at him. “You go. Tell him I said…” she started in the direction of the bedroom as she spoke, then stopped and turned around. Her face was sad but resigned as she looked at Doug, her soft blue eyes searching for understanding he couldn’t give. “Tell him I said it was nice while it lasted.”  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Dawson looked over the spacious living room of the Liddell guesthouse in awe. He set his suitcase down on the marble floor, and turned full circle. He looked out the wall of floor length windows and sighed with a sense of contentment.  
  
He had been here before, last summer in fact, but he had hardly spent more than a few moments there at a time, never really taking the time to enjoy the spacious rooms, but he knew for a fact that Pacey and Audrey had fully enjoyed them. He hadn’t minded so much, because he’d had his own distractions. One of which had been his first real job in the film industry. The other had been equally as educational, and had kept him away most of the time. In fact he was pretty sure he’d only walked in on them fully naked twice…or was it three times. He didn’t want to remember, but it made him not want to sit on the couch.   
  
He walked over to the black leather sofa and flopped down on it regardless, and ran his fingers through his short hair. He closed his eyes and once again, his thoughts drifted to the same place they had spent most of the flight across country. Joey. He wondered if she had called to tell Pacey herself. Had she sent him a letter or had she just had Bessie break it to him like she had for him?  
  
Ugh, forget about Pacey.  
  
He still couldn’t comprehend the fact that she wasn’t coming home. All summer, he had thought of all the fun she was having in Paris, and couldn’t wait for her to come back and tell him all about it. Now she wasn’t coming back. And apparently, she wouldn’t be telling him anything anytime soon.  
  
He pushed his thoughts of her aside and rose to his feet. He retrieved his bags and carried them down the hall to one of the bedrooms, tossing them on the bed. He moved to the windows, pulled open the thick curtains, and took in the view. He couldn’t help the broad smile that crossed his face, as the rich California sun caressed it. If possible his smile grew bigger at the view.  
  
Just outside the small guesthouse, he could see the swimming pool, which was surrounded with faux rocks and boulders, with a man-made waterfall at one end, and accented by live palm trees crowding around, making it look like a secluded island lake.  
  
Beyond it, he could see the beach through the scattered spaces between other houses that were located on the secluded street, their stucco siding and red clay tiled roofs, refreshing and comforting to his eyes, matched that of the main house on the other side of the pool standing tall and impressive against the brilliant sky.  
  
He had thought for a moment it was over, that he wouldn’t be coming back to this place, though he never said it out loud.   
  
Hollywood called to him like siren out at sea. He couldn’t resist its pull. He loved movies; he loved creating them. The entire start to finish process, from writing to filming. It beat inside his heart, and pounded in his blood. It was like breathing, it was like a drug that he needed to survive. Everywhere he went, everything that happened in his life took him back to that. What would he do with that moment on film? Through this venue, he could live life in a new way, through different eyes, or reveal it through his own. He could take that life and make it his in some form. Now he had one more chance to bring that dream into reality and this time he wasn’t letting go, he wasn’t going to surrender anything. He would make it his.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
The door opened before him to a very stiff-looking man with a little mustache, and Dawson had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from giggling at the look of utter seriousness on the man's face.  
  
“Hi, Dawson Leery, I’m staying in the guesthouse,” he looked back in that direction and gestured with his hand before shoving it back in his pocket. “I was invited up for dinner this evening.”  
  
“Of course Mr. Leery, I know who you are,” the butler said with a nod, opening the door wider to let Dawson enter. He followed the severe man through the bright marble hallway and into the parlor.   
  
Audrey’s mom stood as he entered, tugging gently at her fitted white blouse and running a hand over her colorfully striped slacks, before moving forward and pulling him into a hug that felt both a little snug and a little to long for his comfort.   
  
“Hi, Mrs. Liddell,” Dawson said when she pulled away and gestured for him to sit in one of the chocolate-colored suede chairs. “I want to say thanks again for letting me use your guesthouse. I really hope it isn’t any inconvenience.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be silly!” she said, waving an elegant hand at him, taking a seat across from him. “And please, call me Kay.”  
  
“So Dawson,” Mr. Liddell said, handing Dawson a short glass filled with dark liquid. “How is my beautiful daughter?”  
  
Dawson brought the drink to his nose, but the aroma made him wince. “She’s… she’s doing great,” he said setting the drink down on the table near him, making sure to set it neatly on an ornate coaster. “Actually, she is doing very well. Her grades this summer have been good, and she also had the opportunity to participate in my movie.”  
  
“Really,” Mrs. Liddell seemed most excited by this last bit.  
  
“Um, yeah,” he ran his hands over his jean clad thighs and leaned forward warming up to the subject. “She plays Ms. Jenkins, an English teacher who seduces and is seduced by one of her students,” he informed with a grin.  
  
“Oooh, sounds exciting,” Mrs. Liddell said, giving Dawson a pat on the knee. He quirked a thick brow in curiosity and he looked down at that hand. “Doesn’t that sound exciting?” She continued, turning to her husband.  
  
“Has she been drinking?” Mr. Liddell asked ignoring his wife’s comment.  
  
“No sir, she’s been clean and doing very well as far as I can tell.”  
  
“But you aren’t with her every minute?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“I mean, you live in that little town, what’s it called?”  
  
“Capeside, but I can tell you…”  
“For all you know she could be up in Boston boozing it up.”  
  
“I think I would know if she were…”  
  
“And just how would you know?”  
  
“Well,” Dawson began slowly trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice. “She’s an alcoholic, Sir. If she started drinking, I don’t think she would’ve been in any shape for the early hours of filming, or getting an B+ average in all her college courses,” Dawson said, indignation flaring his nostrils slightly. How many times had these people even called to see how she was? How about just calling to say, “Hi, I love you.” His mom called him so much, she drove him crazy, but he’d rather have that than no contact at all. “I don’t think she is capable of having just a drink here and there. Maybe this is something you should call and talk to her about. I’m sure she’d like to hear from her parents once in awhile.”  
  
“Thank you for being her friend, Dawson,” Mrs. Liddell said, her hand once again finding his knee. “She really needs a good boy to help keep her in line.” Dawson blinked disbelievingly at that comment, having nothing to say in response. He reached for his glass, the act a distraction from the need for words, but when it reached his lips, he once again caught the strong odor of the alcohol and thought better of it. “Much better then that boy she brought along with her last summer,” Mrs. Liddell said, sitting back. “I could tell he was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on him.” Dawson founding himself wondering why she was smiling when she said that, until she said, “He was cute though, I have to admit that.” And Dawson rolled his eyes, wondering what it was with older women and Pacey, but his thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Liddell’s words, which caused him to frown for a moment in confusion.  
  
“He served his purpose just fine.”  
  
He didn’t have anytime to digest that statement though, because the maid was announcing that dinner was served.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Hopelessly, helplessly broken apart_ _  
 _He finally falls_  
 _He doesn't want to think_  
 _Doesn’t want to feel_  
 _Doesn’t want to know what's going on_  
 _Says there's nothing he can do will change anything…__ Numb, The Cure  
  
  
  
The uniformed officer swung open the squeaky metal door so Pacey could return to his cell. He had just come from seeing Doug, and telling him about his talk with Meggie, and the evidence they had against him.  
  
Meggie had met with him again this afternoon, returning with more information since their meeting in the predawn hours. They had certificates signed with what was, supposedly, his signature, making him a prime target for insider trading. He hadn’t seen them, but he knew the signature wasn’t his. They had him ripe for conflict of interest, since he was the head of the Stepitech corporate account, and all of his private clients had been heavily invested in that company, which also lead to the conspiracy bit, although they didn’t mention yet who they thought he was in cahoots with.  
  
He had jumped all over it when they’d given him that promotion. A nameless management position, with benefits and a raise, enough false prestige, and enough money to keep him from asking for too many details. It had been a complete set up. He had been their fall guy, all along. He had been their dupe. And he’d jumped for it. Hook, line, and sinker.  
  
Remembering Sadia’s words to him the night they’d met, her attractive face looking up at him, he wondered why he hadn’t listened more closely to her. That was simple to answer. In typical moronic, Pacey-Witter-like manner, he had been too caught up in all the wealth and glamour he had suddenly become apart of, and too busy thinking about how nicely Sadia’s breasts had been displayed in the dress she was wearing. The entire atmosphere had been intoxicating. It was a world that, until then, he’d only seen from the outside looking in, and he’d wanted it for himself.   
  
The laugh he let go at the thought was harsh and sinister, and he shook his head at his own unfathomable stupidity, asking himself if the office, the secretary, the champagne and caviar, the view of her breasts, if it had all been worth the payment of his current situation. He knew it wasn’t and his mind searched frantically for what he would change if he could go back; what he could do now to make it right.  
  
He sat down on the bunk provided for him, staring forward darkly, at nothing. Because there was nothing. There was nothing to be done, nothing to be said. All action, all thought, was pointless. He didn’t want to think, but in the darkness of his mind, and the numbing drab that surrounded him he saw another face. A smug and arrogant face, popping off with all his tactless wit and false charm.   
  
Rich Rinaldi.  
  
It had been obvious for a long time now that it had been a mistake to believe in or trust that bastard, but he hadn’t known until now just how wrong. The depth of his own ineptitude and naiveté overwhelmed him, and he began to imagine in intricate detail the violent things he would do to Rinaldi the next time he had a chance. But Rich wasn’t here, and even the anger at him was pointless. Blaming him was pointless. Pacey had done this, no one else, and this is where he belonged. He closed his eyes, but the images remained, the feelings of anger and hopelessness churning inside seemed to be eating away at him. He desperately wanted to hit something, or someone, but there was nothing, not even a wall, only the bars of his imprisonment.  
  
  
  
He leaned forward and grasped the edge of the bunk, his hands wrapping around the cool steel, and tried to take deep breaths, but they wouldn’t come. His chest only constricted tighter. Anger, frustration and self hatred, like the coils of an enormous reptile, enfolded him and each time he exhaled, the coils tightened leaving was less room to breathe. He was grinding his teeth without realizing it, his fists tightening around the support bar of the fetid cot, until the skin around his knuckles turned white, and they began to ache painfully from the pressure.   
  
The lights down the hall began to flicker off one by one, and the darkness moved toward his cell, positioned at the end of the corridor. He was alone in it, alone with a sparse bunk, a questionable sink, and a grungy toilet. All around him, there were voices in the chilly air, quiet conversations, angry accusations, and somewhere the mindless meditation of an unstable mind.  
  
He sat alone in the midst of it.   
  
His body began to tremble with exhaustion. His muscles, all of them flexed beyond strength in a vain attempt at control, began to shake, and he tensed them even tighter, commanding the perfidy to cease. He had no other control but for this, and he refused to let it go.  
  
He could see the face of every person in his life, telling him his faults, reiterating his immense stupidity. Their words spewed out at him from his memory. In all his life there wasn’t one person who believed in him unconditionally. Anyone who had ever shown him any support instantly changed their mind the moment his ineptitude at running his life had an effect theirs. He opened his eyes, refusing to give himself over to the darkness that awaited him, just beyond, just out of reach. He refused to give in, but he could feel himself careening toward it with every thought that flashed through his tired psyche.   
  
The light over his head turned out, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, sliding down to the floor, feeling the chill of the polished cement through the fabric of the dark blue uniform they’d given him. He lay down on his back, letting that coolness seep into every part of him. He focused on that feeling, the icy numbness that caressed his back and shoulders, the backs of his thighs. He tried desperately not to think. Not to think of what his future held. Not to dwell on the thoughts of hate and destruction that filled his mind. Nor those other, colder thoughts, the darker ones that were an even greater betrayal.   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut forcefully, feeling the familiar stinging heat threatening to overcome them, but it was no use and the tears leaked out, rolling languidly over his temples and into his dark hair. The anger tightened around him with greater force and he clenched his teeth harder, the muscles of his jaw burning as he tried not to scream, or tear the room apart in frustration, and his fingers clawed uselessly at the concrete, fisting and un-fisting in rebellion of their uselessness.   
  
Finally, his body, starving for air, broke free and pulled in a staggering breath and all his restraint fell away, as an unwanted sob of desperation shook his body on the inhale. He rolled onto his side pulling the hard pillow from the cot and into his chest and curling around it like a child. Ashamed of the fact that he couldn’t stop the tears, angrier because of it, but unable to stop as the breach took him forcefully, and he hated himself all the more for his weakness, and his need for it.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Dawson carefully watched the unedited footage he had spent his summer accumulating, pausing every now and then to write down this or that in his notes. Double checking the direction he wanted the story to go, which parts he knew he would have to cut, and which parts he needed to keep. He paused at one particular scene, where there was still footage of one of the many bloopers they’d experienced. Audrey had done a beautiful adlib and he wanted to see if he could work in somehow. The picture held on a close up of her face, the creek behind her in all its glory, the wind tossing wisps of her blonde hair across her cheeks. He looked up from his notes, and found himself drawn into that face for a moment, remembering the kiss she’d given him at the airport. He shook his head and got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head as he made his way to the kitchen in search of something cold to drink  
  
He had been in California a week, and just as Audrey had predicted, her parents had forgotten his existence soon after dinner the first night. In truth, it was a relief because he would much rather spend the time working than trying to be polite and companionable. But he still kept wondering what her father had meant when he said Pacey had served his purpose.   
  
Then he reminded himself he didn’t want to think about Pacey.  
  
His brain rebelled and wondered if Pacey would be checking in on his mom like he had before. She had left a rather cryptic message on his voicemail, and since then he hadn’t been able to get a hold of her at all. He was starting to wonder if she was ok.  
  
He retrieved a soda from the fridge, and pulled the tab, swallowing half the can in one shot before closing the door. He reached up and scratched the nape of his neck, scrunching his face up in thought as his mind returned to his film. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it as sure as he knew his own name. He had a meeting with Todd’s music contact tomorrow, and not only was he nervous about meeting a ‘name’ in the industry, he was nervous because he still hadn’t figured out what it was he needed to do with the movie to make it right; he still didn’t know what was wrong, why it felt so strange to watch it.  
  
He went outside and began walking by the pool, the sounds of the ocean in the distance soothing to him as he ran over the storyline once more in his mind, but he was unable to stop thinking about his mom. He looked at his watch; it was only eight o’clock there, not too late to call. Moving the cold pop can to his other hand; he pulled his phone off the clip on the back of his jeans. The condensation from the cold aluminum can made his fingers wet, and when he flicked his wrist to flip open the phone, he lost his grip unexpectedly, and it flew into the pool, floating gracefully into the depths and landing lightly on the bottom.  
  
“Shoot!” Dawson exclaimed dropping the soda can, falling to his knees and peering through the water. “Crap!” He ran his hands over his hair in exasperation, linking his fingers behind his head as he tried to think. Finally, he toed off his sandals and just jumped in after it, jeans and all.  
  
When he pulled himself out, his clothes were heavy and clinging to his skin, the wet denim making it difficult to swing his leg up out of the water and onto the deck, and he realized he should’ve tried for the ladder. He managed to struggle out of the pool, pull himself up onto the counterfeit rock, and sit down. He leaned back against one of the stout palm trees, water dripping from his nose and chin, and again flipped open the phone. It blinked several times, revealing a bunch on nonsensical symbols, then the screen went blank and it made a feeble, ailing last beep.  
  
“Well that’s just great,” he said, chuckling softly with annoyance, and leaning his head to rest on his hand.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Dawson, you’re really starting to make me worry, sweetheart. This is the fifth time I’ve called you, and you still haven’t called me back,” Gale said into the phone, tapping her French manicured nails on the hall table. “This is really not like you, please, it’s really important. I don’t really want to leave it on a voicemail, so please call me back.” She sighed reluctantly as she replaced the receiver and returned to the living room. Bessie held up two outfits. One a gorgeous, three piece, navy suit, with faint pinstripes, and the other far simpler, a deep charcoal jacket and black slacks that were both very nice.  
  
“Doug brought over these two. He didn’t know which one,” she said looking from one to the other and then back to Gale.  
  
“Not the Armani, if you put him in that, they are gonna think he’s hiding away 300 thousand dollars for sure,” she said taking it and folding it gently over her arm. “Too bad though, the navy would compliment his eyes. We’ll put him in a blue shirt,” she said casually. “Thank you so much for helping me out with this, Mary wouldn’t even return my calls, not that I’m surprised.” Gale added, smiling at Bessie.  
  
“No problem, Bodie and I are glad to help. You are really great for doing this, Gale. I know Pacey will appreciate it.”  
  
“I hope he gets to appreciate it from home. I can’t believe how nervous I am about the hearing tomorrow. Pacey has always had a knack for trouble, but this… well I know he’d never do anything intentional to hurt anybody.” She ran a hand over the soft material of the suit she was holding. “It’s still hard for me to picture Pacey in one of these. When he was little, we were lucky to see him without holes in his jeans.”  
  
Bessie laughed. “If he started out with a whole outfit, he was sure to be missing a piece of it by the end of the day,” she said, turning the slacks inside out so she could press them without making them shiny. “I remember one time, my mom drew happy faces on both his knees, so they would peek through the holes.”  
  
“Ah,” Gale sighed hoisting a sleeping Lillie up out of her playpen and on to her shoulder. “I miss those days. Those three running in and out of this house like a small pack of wild animals,” she laughed, “At the time I thought they would drive me right out of my mind.”  
  
Bessie glanced over at Alex, who had passed out in front of the TV, and smirked, “You know, we may only be a few years away from that insanity again.”  
  
Gale followed Bessie’s gaze and grinned, “Won’t it be great if these two become friends?”  
  
“Of course they’ll be friends.” She brushed her son’s hair away from his forehead, “Just like their brother and aunt.”  
  
“Let’s hope not just like,” Gale said pointedly from the doorway.   
  
“Yeah,” Bessie laughed, “You could be right about that.”  
  
“Hey, Bess, Angel, come and try out one of these muffins,” Bodie called from the kitchen. “I’m not sure I got it just right.”  
  
Bessie rolled her eyes this time and smirked at Gale, “Now that Pacey is a chef and all, Bodie gets paranoid about it whenever he has to cook for him. I keep telling him; cook or no cook, Pacey’ll eat anything, but he doesn’t listen.” She threw over her shoulder to the kitchen, “Be there in a minute, Babe.” Then to the room in general, “A woman’s work is never done.” She finished it off with a wink in Gale’s direction as she, set the iron down carefully, and went to taste test her boyfriend’s goods.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Let the record show that Pacey Witter has entered a plea of ‘not guilty’ to the charges listed,” the judge’s strong voice rang out from the bench and reverberated from the ornate wooden architecture, and over the small group that had gathered in the room.   
  
Pacey sat on the left side of the court room, his hands twitching nervously in his lap, tapping out a rhythm with his thumbs as he tried not to jiggle his legs. He was attempting to do as Meggie had said, look upright, young, and decent. It didn’t help that he didn’t feel particularly young anymore, and he wasn’t sure if he had ever been completely upright or decent. He looked over at Meggie and she smiled at him with her plum tinted, Kewpie-doll mouth. He gave her a slight smile in return, feeling that now familiar sense of safety at the sight of that smile.  
  
“Prosecutor, your position on bail?”  
  
“Your Honor, the State of Massachusetts feels that due to a large amount of concealed cash the defendant may have access to, and the seriousness of these charges, that he is a flight risk, and recommend that he be held without bail.”  
  
Pacey had to stop himself from cutting a glare in the man’s direction at the mention of the money and clasped his hands together in his lap instead.   
  
The judge smiled slightly at the sight of Meggie shaking her head. “Defense?”  
  
“Your Honor, unless the prosecution can come up with a location on this alleged money, they have no standing on which to request holding my client without bail. Pacey Witter is not a flight risk. I suggest he be released on reasonable bond and allowed to return home to Capeside, where his father and brother serve as officers of the law, and the entire police force knows him on sight. It is unlikely he will be able to sneak away.” She made a gesture of running with her short fingers, and got a surprising smile from the judge.  
  
Meggie had a unique presence all her own, and standing there in front of the autocratic looking judge, speaking her mind, fully confident despite her diminutive stature and childlike voice, it became obvious to Pacey that she could do anything she wanted. It was as if she could cast a spell somehow and the people, men and women both he’d noticed, had no idea they were under it. He turned his eyes to the judge, awaiting his response.  
  
“I order bail be set at fifty thousand dollars. Court will adjourn until further notice.” He clapped his gavel down, the sharp sound snapping through Pacey’s shocked mind, causing him to jump slightly. There was a soft, confused bit of clapping behind him, but he didn’t turn to look, he simply sat there staring straight ahead.  
  
“Fifty thousand dollars?” he heard Doug ask behind him to his right. “That’s a little steep for a twenty year old kid in over his head don’t you think?”  
  
“Don’t worry the judge was just flexing his muscles,” Meggie said confidently, “Don’t forget, the MSD pulls a lot of weight.”  
  
Pacey felt slender arms wrap around him from behind along with the familiar scent he knew to belong to Gale Leery. He sighed and reached up to pat her arm to show his appreciation for her presence there. She was the closest thing to family he had in the room, apart from Doug.   
  
“Don’t worry about the money Pacey, we’ll all think of something.” She pulled back and he turned slightly to look at her. “I’m not sure what, but something.”  
  
“Yeah, Pace, don’t you worry, between all of us, we’ll figure something out. We’ll have you out of here in no time,” Bessie said following Gale’s lead and leaning over the partition to embrace him.  
  
Bodie was next, reaching forward to rest a strong and comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but his mile was reassuring.   
  
He finally stood and looked around at the group that had gathered in the courtroom that day to support him and felt a wave of complete and utter shock at what he saw. Frank and Justine were waving at him from the second row, and several other people from Bonne Belle were there. Graham was reaching for his hand as Sophie slipped her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. He couldn’t understand why they had come.  
  
“Pace,” Doug called, and Pacey turned to him questioningly. Doug stood just slightly back from the others, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to center his thoughts and calm his nerves. “Through a bondsman I can get you out for five thousand, so it’s not as bad as it sounds, but it looks like you’ll have to stay here one more night. But I promise I’ll do my damndest to have you out of here by tomorrow. Okay?”  
  
Pacey shook his head, “Doug it’s ok, don’t worry about it. Don’t spend your money on me,” he paused to look around the room at all the familiar faces, old and new. “None of you, really, it’s too much.”  
  
“No, it’s not, Pacey,” Sophie said emphatically. “It’s what friends do for each other.”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Doug felt as if he had been transported to the ending scene of it’s a wonderful life, as Sophie, standing before him still wearing her restaurant uniform, dumped out a crinkled paper bag full of money onto his deco coffee table. “That is from everybody at work, plus Jewels and Paul chipped in, just over a thousand dollars.”  
  
“God, Sophie that’s great.”  
  
“It’s amazing what a guilt trip here or there can do.” She looked down at the pile of greenbacks and sighed. “It’s not enough though. Bessie and Gale are working on it too, but at this rate it will take us at least a week to come up with 5g’s.”  
  
“No it won’t, I’ve got some money in savings, I’ll use that.”  
  
“Doug, you can’t do that.”  
  
“If it was your money and Jewel was behind those bars?” he asked, looking at her pointedly.  
  
“Ok,” she nodded, her voice soft.  
  
Doug sighed, running a hand over his tired features. “It’s just that, I know this is killing him inside Soph. I’ve seen Pacey down on himself before, but I’ve never seen it this bad. The night I left him at the station, I was afraid of what I’d return to find the next day.”  
  
Sophie nodded then sighed. Doug looked over at her as she began stacking the money, sorting the bills and aligning them just so. “You know,” she said after a moment. “I don’t think Pacey would be able to… kill himself, or anything. I think that Murphy’s Law is too firmly inscribed into that thick head of his. The day he killed himself, he’d get off stock free, win the lottery and have the woman of his dreams knocking on his door looking for a date. That’s how his mind works.”  
  
Doug laughed and nodded. “I think you’re right,” he said leaning back against the dark green material of his sofa and letting his hands rest on his thighs. “It’s just a lot to deal with, and he really thinks that he deserves every ounce of it. I worry that it’s too late to change the way he sees himself.”  
  
“Which is?”   
  
“As a worthless kid, who can’t do right even when he tries, and who is destined to have everything he really wants lost to him.”  
  
“It’s funny really,” she said softly, standing to her feet and moving to the door with her purse dangling from her shoulder. “I’ve always seen Pacey as that unsung hero type. The one who helps people because it’s right and he just can’t help himself. He’s managed to help so many people at he restaurant just since he started there, I have no idea why he would think he was worthless.”  
  
She closed the door and Doug closed his eyes, sighing helplessly in to the empty room.  
  
He knew exactly why.


	6. Chapter 6

_I'd send the pain below…much like suffocating…_  
Chevelle, Send the Pain Below

"That guy is really starting to make me mad," Dawson said, squinting across the schoolyard to the place where Joey was moping, swinging dejectedly on the old playground swings. She was trying to ignore the boy in the next swing, who was teasing her incessantly, his laughter carrying across the distance to where Dawson sat watching. The comment had been directed at Pacey, who sat across from him munching on a small bag of Doritos, the remains of his lunch. 

"Who Kellerman? Ah, Joey can take care of herself." He followed Dawson's gaze to the familiar tall, lanky girl, and frowned. "As a matter of fact, I can't figure out why she hasn't decked him already." 

"She's not really herself," Dawson said. "Her mom is sick, I think, and her dad has been gone a lot lately." 

"You know, come to think of it, she hasn't insulted me in days, something must really be wrong." Pacey thoughtfully crunched another chip. "She didn't tell me her mom was sick." 

"Me either, I just kinda got that idea from something she said to Bessie on the phone the other night," Dawson answered, never taking his eyes off his friend even as she got up and moved away with Kellerman right on her heels. "God, he just won't leave her alone!" 

"Then why don't you do something about it?" Pacey demanded also watching the event. 

"And what would you suggest, Pace, that I challenge him to a duel? At high noon maybe?" 

Pacey smirked at him, "Yeah right, Dawson "The Duke" Leery. No," he tossed out a long arm pointing in that direction. "Just go over there and talk to him. Let him know it's not ok to pick on Dawson Leery's girlfriend." 

Dawson turned shocked eyes on Pacey, "That's vulgar, Pace. Joey is so not my girlfriend." 

"Friend then," Pacey said with annoyance, "I mean, she is your friend right? Are you really gonna just sit there and let that guy harass one of your best friends when she's down?" 

"You know what?" Dawson said pointing at Pacey for emphasis, "You're right." He shoved his hair back and climbed off the bench. 

"Of course I'm right," he heard Pacey say behind him as he strode over to where Joey was trying to escape her pursuer. 

"Hey Joey?" he called and she quickly turned to look at him, and he thought he saw relief flood her eyes. 

"Hey Dawson," she said with a smile. 

"We still on for movie night?" 

"Of course, what would Friday night be with out you, me, a movie, and a bed full of popcorn crumbs?" she responded her crooked grin lighting up her face in the way that was uniquely Joey. 

"Well, I invited Pacey to come tonight is that ok?" 

"Hmm, I suppose if I have to spend any time with a sub-human, then Pacey's not the worst choice." She cast a sideways glace at Brody Kellerman, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall about ten feet from her. 

"Alright, then I guess I'll see you later." Dawson said, smiling. 

"Later Dawson." She turned and walked away and immediately Brody started to follow her. Dawson stepped into his path. 

"Brody Kellerman," he said, his voice emotionless. 

"What's your problem?" 

"No problem really. I just noticed that you were bothering Joey," he said, his young voice very serious. "She's my friend and I want you to leave her alone." 

"And what if I don't wanna?" Brody asked smugly, crossing his arms and smirking back at him. Dawson sighed and tried not to reveal the nervousness that seemed to be eating a hole through his stomach. "I'll have to do something about it," he said, then swallowed as the somewhat taller Brody took a step closer. 

"And just how do you plan to do that?" 

"Well, you see Kellerman, that's what he's got me for." Dawson heard Pacey's voice say from behind him, and felt a supportive, friendly hand on his shoulder at the same time. He felt his confidence return at his friend's presence. "Sort of like an enforcer, you might say. Right D?" Pacey asked, grinning maniacally. Brody Kellerman took a step back. 

Dawson nodded. "We really don't like it when people mess with Joey." 

"Yeah," Pacey added with a smirk, "That's my job," and Dawson laughed, feeling the tension that had been boiling in his stomach ease at Pacey's jest. He obviously wasn't the least bit worried. 

"So why don't you just leave her alone ok?" 

"Or we'll make sure you regret it," Pacey said darkly, and Dawson was relieved he didn't have to make the threat, because it just wasn't in him. Pacey on the other hand had proved himself in that area. His sisters often got themselves into trouble, and Pacey was always there to defend them when needed. He wasn't quick to fight, but everyone knew if it came down to it, he knew what he was doing. 

"Fine, whatever," Brody said with a snort. "I'll leave your little trailer trash girlfriend alone, Leery." 

"Hey! Watch what you say Brody, yer pissin me off!" Pacey said sharply. Dawson's hand fisted angrily at his sides and Pacey squeezed his shoulder, holding him still when he tried to step forward irately. Brody strode off in the other direction. 

Dawson took a deep breath and turned around. "Thanks Pace." 

"Hey, no problem, Bro," Pacey said smiling as he patted Dawson on the back happily, "That's what best friends are for, right?" 

"Right." Dawson smiled, returning the masculine show of affection. 

~*~*~*~*~

September 2004…

Dawson started at the sound of his name being called and his eyes snapped open. He gave a small wave in response, not wanting to disrupt the quiet ambience of the waiting area, where he had just spent the last hour. 

"I'm sorry that took so long, Mr. Leery, Delsie will see you now," The slender man stated as he came to a stop in front of Dawson and folded his hands demurely at his waist. 

Dawson leaned down and began to gather his materials, and the assistant reached out to help him, swinging the heavy messenger bag over his narrow shoulder with surprising ease. "Thanks," Dawson said, managing a half-done smile, and a nod, despite his nervousness. 

He couldn't believe he was about to meet the Delsie Liranzo. She was the freshest thing out there right now, and he thought if she liked his movie and agreed to do it, he would have to find some way to repay Todd, because it would be the greatest thing to ever happen for him. He almost wanted to giggle at the prospect. 

He followed the assistant, who had introduced himself as Burke, down some stairs and along a dimly lit corridor until they reached a large orchestra room. It was empty, except for a figure near the stage, of whom Dawson could only make out a pair of legs, propped up and crossed at the ankles with a pair of small, boot adorned feet to top them off. He noticed they were very nice legs, and couldn't help but take a long look at them as long as the owner wasn't yet aware of his presence. 

"Delsie, Dawson Leery is here," said Burke, as he set Dawson's bag down onto a near by chair. 

The set of lengthy crura swung, gracefully down from their perch, and the large chair turned in his direction, revealing a slender woman with wavy jet-black hair, black eyes, and creamy white skin. She also had very large breasts, so large in fact that they were the first thing Dawson noticed when she turned around, so temptingly displayed in her V-neck top. He just didn't want to admit it. 

"Hell-O, Mr. Leery," she said, looking him up and down. She stood to her feet and held out her hand to him. He took it politely, noticing her firm confident grip as she gave his hand a friendly squeeze. "It is very nice to finally meet you. I have to admit I was a bit skeptical when it was Todd recommending you. But then again, the man has a good eye, and I figured that any director willing to recommend his lowly PA as a 'must see' filmmaker must really think he's found something." She turned and looked over the cards she'd been writing up, tapping them against the desktop to align them. Her movements were slow and deliberate and Dawson thought his head might explode if she didn't give him her opinion soon. 

"It's an honor to finally meet you face to face, Ms. Liranzo; I just hope I can live up to Todd's high praise. I'm sure he exaggerated, but I think I've got something with real potential, and I'm hoping you feel the same," he said gesturing with his hand. 

"Well, I stayed up late last night reading over the script, and I've spent most of this morning looking at the footage you sent me." She took a seat again and gestured for him to sit across from her in one of the folding wood slated chairs. He did as she offered, barely able to sit still, so intense was his feeling of anticipation. If she liked it, and agreed to do it, he had no idea how he would pay her. If she hated it, he had no idea what he would do for a music track. Either way, it was a bend in the road. It would mean moving on with production in one way or another and he was more than ready to do that. She spoke and his eyes widened. 

"Did you just say what I think you said?" he asked with a small disbelieving laugh. 

She laughed too, the sound a sparkle in the acoustically enhanced room. "If you think I said that I want to do the music for this film, then yes." 

Dawson sat back in the chair, shoving both hands through his hair, a smile splitting his face wide open, and he laughed again, hardly able to process his good fortune. "I… I can't tell you how much this means to me." He shook her hand again, this time with more enthusiasm, then stopped suddenly. Her smiling eyes looked back at him curiously. "It's an independent film. There's not a very large budget; as a matter of fact there is no budget. This movie has been put together by sheer force of will." He let his words trail off, pulling his hand nervously from her grasp; he wiped both palms fretfully down his thighs. "In fact, I have no money left whatsoever to put into this project." 

"Are you saying you can't pay me?" she asked, quirking a dark, well-groomed eyebrow at him. 

"Um, yep, that's exactly what I'm saying." Might as well lay my cards on the table, he thought. 

"Well," she sighed leaning forward and tapping her notecards against her palm. "I suppose a profit sharing deal would work for me." 

Dawson looked stunned. "Really?" 

She shrugged, "What can I say; something in me just really wants to do this. I already have a theme running through my head." She smiled broadly and rolled her chair over to the piano, her long slender fingers dancing gracefully over the keys, filling the room with sound. "Let me give you an idea of what I was working on just before you got here." 

~*~*~*~*~

Pacey leaned back, relaxing his body against the cool railing as he stared into the wide endlessly blue sky above him. So close and yet beyond his reach. Like so many things. He closed his eyes and let the sunshine warm his face. Listening to the sounds of the water splashing softly about him eased the tension in his mind, and the wind rushing over him made him feel almost whole. At least for the moment. 

For the moment, he could imagine that he was actually free. He could pretend he hadn't just spent the last two weeks in a jail cell. He could pretend that he wasn't looking down the barrel of a lifetime sentence in a federal prison. He could make believe he didn't despise himself. For the moment, it was just him and the sea. 

"Hey Pacey, you wanna beer?" 

And, well, these other guys, but they were ok. 

He opened one eye to see Graham standing in front of him with a dark, longneck bottle. He accepted it with a nod, took a sip, and nearly choked in surprise as the intensely sweet, carbonated liquid that washed over his tongue wasn't what he expected. He looked at the bottle, reading the gold label that read 'root beer' with a nod, then looked up at Graham who was snickering. 

"Thanks," Pacey said hoarsely, pounding his fist against his chest in an attempt to relieve the spasm his choking had caused. 

"I'm sorry, dude, I couldn't resist," the dark hair man said, sitting next to Pacey and smiling up at the sun. 

Pacey narrowed his eyes at him, not without humor, and said, "Just you wait, your day will come." Graham laughed. Pacey smiled and leaned back once again, darting his eyes over to Paul and Frank every so often to make sure they weren't going to crash them into another craft or some other disaster only two novice sailors could manage. 

It was his third day home, and he was back in Capeside. He was back to sleeping on Doug's couch. Back to his father ignoring the fact he existed. Since his arrest, he hadn't heard word one from the man, and the tension between Pop and Doug was almost palpable even though Pacey was never in a room with the two of them at the same time. He felt a wave of guilt at the idea that he was responsible for causing a rift between them. Once upon a time, it would've thrilled him to see them at each other, but now…he felt Doug deserved to be in Pop's good graces, one of them should be, and he was the good son after all. 

The guys had surprised him with this boat trip, and despite feeling self-conscious at every turn, he was pleasantly surprised, and had laughed when he found out they had taken a few lessons while he was "away" so they could take him out on the water. He couldn't deny he appreciated it. The ocean always brought him a certain amount of peace. He would take it, because after today, things weren't going to be so easy. 

He had gotten his job back at the market just that morning, but his restaurant job was gone for good. Kevin wasn't willing to risk the chance of having one of his chefs sent off to prison, and when Pacey ran the figures in his head, he realized he'd need at least two more minimum wage jobs to make up for the loss of that income, which hadn't been enough in the first place. Tomorrow he would begin the hunt. 

After awhile, they dropped anchor, unpacked a huge lunch, and began munching quietly on the bologna sandwiches and potato chips, while listening to the waves lapping against the side of the boat. 

"So what's next on the agenda, Pace?" Paul asked handing him another small bag of chips. 

"Next on my agenda?" he reiterated. "I need to find a job." He took a quick swallow and shook his head. "I have bills, and they need to get paid. Plus, if by some freak chance I actually get out of this mess, I need to find my own place to live." 

"Kevin let you go?" Frank demanded. "That's frickin' fabulous!" he spat sarcastically. 

"Well, ya can't really blame the guy. I mean, who knows how much longer I'm even gonna be available." 

"Still, you're the best chef in that place, not to mention the easiest to work with." Frank said, shaking his head in disdain. 

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration, but thanks." Pacey said, saluting him with his bottle. 

"I think I may have an idea for ya, as far as jobs go." Graham spoke up looking to Frank for confirmation, then shoving a chip in his mouth and talking around it. "Didn't Glory mention she needed someone the other day?" 

Frank nodded his affirmation. 

"I believe the words 'able-bodied male' were mentioned." Paul commented the sun glinting off his wired rimmed glasses as he turned his head. "But, are you sure she was talking about a job at the bar?" 

"Are you insinuating she wanted to give somebody another type of job?" Frank asked, waggling his dark blonde eyebrows. 

Pacey frowned through his laughter, his curiosity overriding his interest in the derailed conversation. "Who is this Glory person?" 

"Did she request profuse diving experience." Paul said. 

"No, I'm pretty sure she said she was willing to train." Frank commented. 

"Gloria Kieffer," Graham started, casting a sideways look at Frank and Paul who were laughing hard enough to rock the boat as their conversation continued to deteriorate. "She owns a bar downtown, Glory Day's Sports Bar." He finished his own chuckle tainting his voice. 

"Ok, I've been there. They have those huge TVs and several pool tables. You can get in when you're eighteen as long as it's before nine. Opened last year right?" Pacey said with a grin. "You know the owner?" 

"Yeah, you should go down there tomorrow. Tell her I sent you." 

"Mmm, you've got that much pull?" he asked with a smirk. "You think she'll hire an ex-con?" 

Graham just smirked at his exaggeration. "Well, if my name doesn't get you in, just mention your brother, I hear Doug has major pull where Glory is concerned." 

This comment nearly caused Pacey to spit out his root beer, but he recovered quickly. "Alright," he managed after a moment, deciding that Doug's sex life wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. "Since you seem to be the guru of the day, Meggie also says I should do some community service." 

"Well, for that you should talk to Sophie, she has a friend down at the community center, they have some after school programs they run down there for kids whose parents work long hours, amongst other things." he responded, pointing his bottle at Pacey. "I hear you're good with kids." 

"Where would you hear such a thing?" Pacey demanded in mock horror, bringing his hand to his chest in indignation. "I deny everything!" 

"Bessie was talking about you." 

"In that case I really do deny everything." Pacey smirked. He took a bite of his second sandwich and looked out over the water, enjoying its presence and simply being there instead of in Capeside. Well, he was still in Capeside, for all intents and purposes, but while he was out here, he could actually not think about it. Usually. 

He sighed softly and took another long drink. Unfortunately, he had a tendency to think of other things while he was on the water. He cast his gaze east, squinting slightly at the light reflecting off the water, scanning the horizon for something he could not see. __

> _
> 
> "I can't do it!" 
> 
> "Yes you can, just don't let go. I'll help you." 
> 
> The pole tugged hard, she stumbled forward a little and he steadied her with his hands around her waist. Once he had her body tucked in snugly against his, he reached around and placed his hands gently over hers, bringing her even closer as she gripped the fishing pole. Her body was warm and soft against his and her hair tickled his nose, filling his nostrils with the scent of her. Together they pulled and gave line, eventually reeling in a impressive sized fish, that flopped side to side as it still sought an impossible escape. 
> 
> "Oh my gosh, I did it!" she cried, using a hand to cover her mouth in surprise and leaving him to support the weight of the rod as the fish dangled from the heavy line. 
> 
> "Yes you did," he said, his grin filling his face from ear to ear. "You are now a self sufficient sea woman." 
> 
> _

"She mentioned that you dated her sister." Graham's voice cut into his thoughts, reminding him where he was, the conversation about Bessie, and Pacey looked stricken for a moment before he got his bearings. Graham didn't seem to notice. "What was her name…Joni, Joey?" 

"Um, Joey…yeah we used to date, a long time ago," Pacey said, turning away, afraid his eyes would reveal too much. He put on his poker face and changed the subject. 

~*~*~*~*~

"Hi! I'm Glory Kieffer, and you are?" 

To say the woman was statuesque would be an understatement. In a pair of stylish black boots, she was easily as tall as he was. On her head was a mess of chestnut colored curls that fell over her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her face was oval shaped with high cheekbones and lips that formed a perfect cupid's bow. Her eyes were large and bright, an odd color he couldn't quite describe. 

She was wearing a pair of tight, low slung, dark denim jeans and a snug black baby-T that revealed a large strip of tanned and toned stomach, and showed off the rest of her figure as well. She was holding out a slim hand to him, and Pacey turned on his most charming smile as he accepted it. 

"I'm Pacey Witter; I heard a rumor that you were looking for some help around here?" 

"Pacey Witter, as in Doug Witter's little brother?" she asked with a smile. 

"Well, that all depends. Did you and my brother part on good terms?" 

She just looked at him curiously and he tucked his head down and chuckled diffidently. "I obviously just stuck my foot in my mouth in a big way." 

"Did Doug tell you we dated?" she asked. 

"No, ah, actually Graham Carter, he told me about the job, and…" 

Her eyebrows went up. "Graham told you Doug and I dated?" 

"Uhh, no." He shook his head slightly pressing his fingertips to his forehead trying to regain focus. "He just said Doug's name might have some pull with you, but I'm guessing that no amount of pull is going to get me this job now, so I'll just go." He turned on his heel to leave, but her voice stopped him before he had made a move toward the door. 

"Pacey?" 

He turned back around and raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

"Are you in good shape?" 

"Uhh, well…" 

"Are you physically capable of carrying a keg up and down some stairs, that sort of thing?" 

"Yeah, definitely. No problem," he replied with a tentative smile. 

"Good, you're hired." She beckoned him with her hand as she headed toward the back, leading him into her office. "I'll get you your shirt and apron and show you around. How soon can you start?" 

"Right now, if you need me," he said with excitement. It wasn't the most glamorous job, but he was hired which meant one more thing to strike off his list. This job with the job at the market was a good start. Although, even the two jobs together weren't going to be enough to pay his bills, food, and part of the rent with Doug. 

"Here you go, Pacey, try this shirt on," she said, tossing him a black shirt that had Glory Days printed on the left hand side in fiery letters. She handed him some paperwork to fill out, and a pen, along with a rolled up apron. "It's only five days a week right now, and pays minimum wage, plus a share of tips when you are bussing. You'll be stocking mostly, bussing when it's really busy. Not exactly the glamorous bar life." She gave him a smile. She stood once she'd finished shuffling about in her desk and looked him over. "How old are you Pacey?" 

"Twenty, I'll be twenty-one in January." 

"That's what I thought. Too bad, I could use a bartender right now, and I'm willing to train one. Tips in Capeside suck and I continuously lose my bartenders to Boston, or Providence, or even Lakeville." 

"You're kidding," he said stopping midway through pulling his shirt over his head, trying it on over his black a-shirt. 

"Nope." 

"Lakeville is what, 2/3 the size of Capeside?" 

"And yet they are bigger tippers." 

He pulled the shirt down the rest of the way and looked it over, noticing the fit was tight across his chest and around his biceps, but still hung somewhat loosely around his stomach. He held out his arms for her approval. 

"That looks great," she commented, looking him over. She smiled at him again and he noticed how full her lips were, glossy in the dim light with only a hint of color that complimented her golden skin. He smiled in return. "I'll tell you what though, Tuesday is Ladies' Night, and if you hang around and get to know the ropes well enough, I might just let you serve. Then you should be able to bring home better tips." 

"That would be great, thanks," Pacey said as he finished the paperwork and handed it to her. 

"Ok, be here tomorrow at…" she looked over the calendar on her wall, "5:00pm." 

"You got it, and thanks again. I really appreciate this. I can't say I'm sorry enough about earlier. I mean it's none of my business and it was just…" 

"It's ok. Doug and I are friends; he went to the academy with my little brother." 

"Oh," he responded with a nod, then he looked her over again taking in her arresting appearance, and asked without thinking, "Wait, your little brother is Doug's age? Then how old are you?" She gave him a look and he held up his hands, "Never mind, forget I asked that," he said, backing out of the room with his hands still up. "But let me say I don't believe a word of it." He managed a wink at her and was sure he heard her chuckling as he closed the office door, and thought maybe it was a good sign that he hadn't just screwed himself over again with his astronomically big mouth. 

He walked out the door and into the sunshine, although he didn't really feel it on his face. He walked toward the marina with the shirt and apron rolled and tucked under his arm. He had seen a 'Help Wanted' sign and decided he might as well check it out. It was with in quick walking distance of Doug's apartment and his other two jobs, so if he could get a job gassing up boats or whatever, it should nicely round out his income. 

He listened to the rhythmic thump of his footfalls on the gray weathered wood of the docks. People passed him by but no one took notice of him. He didn't mind. He hunched his shoulders a little as a cool breeze blew over him from off the water and he squinted his eyes as he looked out over it. It was amazing how often he found himself doing that, searching the horizon for his escape. It wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere. There was no escape from yourself. He was in Capeside, and he was Capeside, and that was the way that it was. 

After talking with Bryan Arnolds, who ran the small marina that was hiring, he was gainfully employed at yet another low paying, demeaning job in the service industry. He tried to convince himself, as he sat down on the edge of a familiar doc, that there was some consolation to be found in the fact that he would be pumping gas into boats, and not cars. 

He didn't know how long he sat there before he heard footsteps echoing on the wood behind him and he looked up to find a familiar figure taking a seat beside him. 

"Hey Bodie, how are ya?" 

"Hey there, Pace," he replied, "I'm fine." He didn't sound too confident about that statement, and Pacey studied him curiously for a moment. 

"Alex?" 

"Doing great, he wrote his entire name yesterday," Bodie responded with fatherly pride. 

"Wow," Pacey said smiling, equally proud, "seems like only yesterday, I was performing a one man show of "The English Patient" to get him to sleep." 

Bodie frowned, "What? When was that?" 

Pacey smirked and shook his head waving his hand in dismissal. "Nothing, never mind." He laughed for a moment. "So how is…everything else?" 

"Joey is doing fine." 

"Did I say Joey? Who said Joey?" Pacey spouted with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders and shake of his head. 

"Mmm hmm, right." Bodie smirked. "She seems to be really happy, like she hasn't been in awhile." He chuckled. "I guess her room mates are a little flamboyant, she said they make Audrey look tame. She's really excited about school; crazy though, working sunup to sundown, has to be the best. You know how she is." 

Pacey nodded, "I do indeed." His eyes looked out at the horizon, but the horizon wasn't what he saw, and his eyes squinted instinctively, as if the could some how adjust the internal vision. 

"Actually," Bodie began after a long moment of silence. "Speaking of the Potter women, I was wondering if you would be able to check in on Bessie and the B&B for me over the next couple of weeks. I know it's a lot to ask of you, considering… everything that's going on, but I would really appreciate it." 

Pacey frowned, "And where will you be?" 

"I will be…" he dragged out the words slowly as if unsure of them. His hands griped and released the edge of the dock rhythmically. "I need to head home to Ellisville and see to a few things. Family issues, it's …complicated, and Bessie needs to stay here with the B&B." 

"Ok," Pacey said, not quite buying the explanation. "What about the breakfast part of B&B, who's gonna do the cooking?" 

"Bessie is capable of cooking breakfast." Pacey cocked a skeptical eyebrow, and Bodie laughed. "It may not be gourmet, but it's more than edible." 

"And Fresh Fish?" 

Bodie sighed and stared out at the horizon as Pacey had done moments before, and Pacey wondered if he saw the horizon or if something else haunted Bodie's mind the way she haunted his. 

"I'm selling my share back to Gale." He looked over at Pacey seriously. "She doesn't really need me there anymore. The people know how to cook, and I think Chester is ready to be head chef." 

The two men sat together, in silence again, and watched the boats out on the water, until finally Pacey broke the stillness. "You know Bodie, if there is anything you need to talk about, I'm here to listen. I know we've never been friends so to speak, but I've always, sort of, you know, looked up to you. The way you really stepped up for them…were there for them. Everything," He gave the other man a pat on the shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that. After all we have a lot in common. I mean we are both fantastic cooks." 

"Both hopelessly in love with a Potter girl." Bodie said quietly. 

Pacey expected Bodie to be giving him a look with that statement, but found he was still looking out over the water. Once again, he felt that something wasn't quite right about Bodie leaving, and he opened his mouth to ask the question burning to be asked, but decided against it. Instead, he just gave a soft chuckle and returned his own gaze to the endless blue of ocean meeting the sky. 

~*~*~*~*~

"Mom, hey it's Dawson, you are never gonna believe this!" He was talking to his mother's answering machine from a pay phone inside the Liddell's pool house. He had refused to use it before out of sheer principle; who charges their guests to make calls; but now he was too excited not to call home. "Man, I wish dad was here, he'd be freaking out right now! I just finished talking with Mathew Middleton, who is this major editing guy, a really big deal in indie film right now and…" 

"Dawson?" his mother's voice cut in, sounding breathless. 

"Hey mom, great! I really wanted to talk to you…" 

"Dawson, Sweetie," she began and two thousand six hundred some miles away, Dawson went completely still. That was not her genuine, "I love you, sweetie", that was "I hope you said your prayers because your ass is grass and I'm the mower, sweetie". He cringed as she continued, her words and voice intense without once raising her volume. "Where in the hell have you been? I have been trying to get a hold of you for almost a month now. You never call here. All I ever get is your voicemail. I even tried e-mail and still nothing. You are lucky I didn't fly down there myself. I thought you might be dead! If I wasn't having my own issues here with everything that's been going on I would have." 

Dawson blanched as her diatribe came to a halt. He had forgotten all about her. He had thought earlier that something was going on and then he'd gotten so caught up in everything else he'd completely forgotten. 

"Oh my God, Mom." He ran a hand over his face, covering his mouth a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I'm so sorry. I've been so caught up with the film, and LA and…is everything ok? Lillie? The restaurant?" 

Gale sighed audibly, "Lillie is fine, aside from missing her brother, and the restaurant will be fine as soon as I find a new head chef…" 

"What?" he interrupted, "What about Bodie? Is everything ok at the Potters'?" He felt his throat constrict at the thought of something happening to Joey. 

"I'm not sure what is going on," she replied calmly, unaware of the thoughts that had poured into his mind, his heightened imagination conjuring up a plethora of nasty events. "Bodie is leaving, and I don't really know why. He and Bessie say it's related to family issues for him but… who knows," she paused a moment and Dawson breathed in a relieved sigh. For the most part everything seemed to be ok. "Dawson, there is one other thing, she continued. 

"Yeah?" he asked calmly, expecting a motherly speech at any moment. 

"Pacey was arrested last month. They are charging him with an array of things related to securities fraud." 

His eyes grew wide as he listened to what his mother was saying, and couldn't stop the vision of Pacey being hauled away by police and Feds from playing through his mind. A slow motion shot, with police lights flashing in the darkness, rain falling around them. Pacey with his head down as his hands were cuffed behind his back. He found the idea deeply unsettling, and had to take a deep breath. 

"What happened, I mean is he, are they…" 

Gale seemed to understand his loss of fluency. "He is out on bail now, but he lost his job at Bonne Belle, and he's really down honey. He still has to go to trial. They are saying March. Maybe you could give him a call. Let him know you're there for him and everything." 

Dawson swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. "Pacey doesn't want to hear from me, Mom. We aren't friends anymore, according to him." 

"What?" Gale asked. "Well, that's just silly. Don't tell me this is because of the money. I understand you being upset at first, but I thought you guys had worked through all that." 

"I don't really know mom. It's …complicated, but Pacey and I haven't really been friends for a long time now." 

"Don't tell me this has anything to do with Joey." Gale said darkly, "You two are way too old to fight over a girl, and way to young to carry such a harsh grudge." 

"Mom, don't be ridiculous, it doesn't have anything to do with Joey." 

But in his mind, he wondered if it did. If maybe, it was still about Joey. If maybe it always would be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers, If you're reading this, then I love you. I've been having a few issues with formatting while I post so if you see anything really nasty, that makes it hard to read or whatever, please let me know. :)

_I'm alright, I'm alright, it only hurts when I breathe…_  
Breathe -- Melissa Etheridge

 

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea? This thing doesn't look sanitary."

"Stop being a wuss, Dawson, just do it."

Dawson nodded, bit his lip and pressed the sharp blade into his palm, wincing and sucking in his breath as it cut into the grubby calloused flesh of his hand. "Ok." He handed the pocketknife back to Pacey, who closed it with one hand, blood already making a small pool in the palm of his other hand.

"We do hereby swear to abide by the code of GAG," Pacey said solemnly.

"Girls Are Gross," Dawson stated for clarification.

"Right."

"All girls? What about my mom?"

"Dawson, your mom is not a girl, she's a Mom. It's a totally different thing," Pacey said in exasperation.

"What about Joey?"

"Joey's not really a girl either, obviously, but she still can't come in the fort. Now do you mind Dawson, I'm bleedin' over here."

"Ok." He took Pacey's hand and they pressed their palms together tightly, allowing their blood to mix. "We will defend each other to the death," Dawson continued with the oath.

"Always looking out for each other."

"Brothers before any others."

"And I will never look at, smell or touch…"

"And I will never look at, smell or touch…"

"Or especially never, never, ever KISS a girl," Dawson repeated the oath and they shivered in disgust then spit in their free hand and rubbed it in their hair.

"Ok."

"Ok."

"So, how long to we have to stay like this."

"A long time I think."

"Ok, you want a s'more?"

"Sure."

How am I supposed to make it with one hand?"

"I don't know. What am I, Camp Coordinator?"

"Well, it takes two hands to put all that stuff together."

"Never mind, just give me the marshmallows they are good by themselves." At his serious face, Dawson started laughing. Pacey looked up, saw Dawson's giggling face and started up as well, until both boys were laughing uncontrollably, rolling in the dirt, with the marshmallow, their hands still firmly attached.

 

~*~*~*~*~

"Pacey… Pace…? Pacey!" He jolted from his thoughts and turned to see his boss motioning frantically from the bar. "Get your cute ass over here, please!"

He hurried through the maze of tables, carrying his tub of dirty glasses and plates high, careful not to knock anyone in the head as he made his way through the crowded room. "What do you need?" he asked, raising his voice over the din, as he moved passed her into the kitchen to unload.

"I need another case of Sam and Heinie brought up," she said, deftly flipping two shot glasses onto the table. "And a bottle of Jaeger."

"You got it," Pacey called out, and hurried down the stairs at the very back of the kitchen, and down into the cellar, quickly scanning boxes for what he was looking for. After close to a month of working at Glory Days, he had gotten to know his way around fairly well. He found the Samuel Adams, and the Heineken, grabbed a case of each, and then retrieved a bottle of Jagermeister and balanced it on top as he hefted the load up the stairs and unloaded it behind the bar.

"Here ya go."

"Mmm," was her only response as she gave him the barest nod. She had her hands full with several drinks, as did the other bartender who, as it turned out, was Sophie's sister Jewel.

"Pace, can you make a Long Island for this gentleman?" Glory asked when he stepped closer to put away the bottle of liquor he'd fetched.

He frowned at her a moment, but she gave him a meaningful look. He shrugged, grabbed the appropriate glass, and started mixing. He ended up mixing a lot of drinks that night. He knew he shouldn't be, couldn't figure out why Glory was letting him, but none of that stopped him. He knew how to mix drinks; one learns these kinds of things when one hangs out with sailors for any length of time. Add onto that the time with "LA" Audrey, and his exceptional memory, and voila -- instant bartender. He was actually surprised at the things he remembered, and at the end of the night, when Glory handed him his tips and he walked out the door, he realized he was smiling. He had actually had fun.

The night air was thick and unusually warm, the recent rainfall filling the air with humidity, painting the streets and sidewalks with a glossy wetness that was taunting, and the smells of the minuscule burg of his youth filled the air with added heaviness. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, head down as he walked, watching his feet as they made their way to the market place.

In several hours, the street would be filled with the residents of Capeside shopping at the Market for their own daily catch, but for now it was empty for the most part, with a only a single solitary figure making his way along its path. His shift at the bar ended at 2:30, his shift unloading fish from the various ships that supplied the local marketplace with their fresh merchandise, began at four, giving him just enough time to change and eat a leisurely breakfast.

Near the market, stood the only place in Capeside open all night. Chubb's Diner. It was small and not much to look at from the outside, but they had decent food and drinkable coffee. Pacey pushed open the door, ringing the small bell above, and made his way to the counter. The familiar waitress set down a coffee cup for him automatically filling it up with the dark aromatic liquid, and he gave her a nod and a soft smile of thanks.

"Usual?" she asked, her manner brusque, but not unkind. He gave another nod, and she called back an order that sounded like a foreign tongue to him, but when it arrived on the plate set before him it was exactly as he'd wanted.

"Thanks, Doris," he said softly, as he picked up his plate and moved to a booth in the back corner. He quickly consumed his bacon and eggs, hot cakes and sausage, assuaging his hunger, then sat back in the booth and sipped his coffee. He pulled a book from his back pocket and flipped it open, finding the page he'd left off on before. All around him, the air was filled with the din of voices exchanged in conversation. The fishermen and sailors from other vessels spoke of the weather and their catch, a few deputies from his father's station talked the latest gossip, regurgitating what they'd heard and the spewing new bits they'd seen firsthand, and a pair of State Troopers who were locked in deep discussion he couldn't decipher, hunched over their coffee, mugs held as close to them as their faces were to each other.

Pacey focused on the worn paperback in his hands, its cover bent, the pages dog-eared from being shoved in his pocket. He checked his watch, an inexpensive waterproof gadget he'd picket up at the drugstore on the corner as a replacement; his platinum Rolex sold long ago, the money stuffed in and envelope and handed to a friend.

Seeing it was time to move on, he rose, and dropped his payment onto the tabletop, leaving Doris a generous tip, sharing the wealth. He tossed back the remains of his coffee, shoved the book back into his jeans pocket, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and slipped into the bathroom to change before he headed out the door.

He nodded to the familiar faces as he came down the weathered ramp, slipping on his work gloves as he came to the dock.

"Witter, you want east side right?"

"You betcha, Hamlin, thanks," Pacey said, casually giving the man a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You remember how that sun rise just kills the retinas, man. My eyes just can't take it."

 

~*~*~*~*~

"So what exactly are you saying?" Dawson asked using one hand to block his free ear from the powerful noise of downtown L.A. "You think it has a chance?" He smiled, nodding his head. "Ok, alright, Matt, that's great. Thank you, thank you so much." He pulled his brand new phone from his ear and gave it a triumphant flip that went along with the mile wide grin on his face.

"So? What did he say?" Delsie asked, leaning toward him intently.

"He thinks we are in," he said his eyes popping with excitement.

"Oh my gosh! This is just too much!" Burke was saying his hand fluttering to his heart.

Delsie was clapping her hands and hopping as best she could in her three-inch heels. "I can't believe it! If we get in, I will have a movie showcased at The Festival every year since I started this crazy ride!"

"I'm so happy for you." Burke gushed and Dawson looked on as the two kissed cheeks and twittered on about the festival and everything that went along with it. Burke was already actively planning his wardrobe.

"I think this calls for a minor celebration," Delsie exclaimed happily. "Let's do lunch at Ven Dega's!"

Dawson's eyebrows went up, moving to the center of his notable forehead. "I think that might be counting our eggs before they've hatched just a little, not to mention our cash flow." When they just looked at him blankly he continued, "Or rather, my cash flow."

"Oh Dawson you silly boy!" Delsie said taking his arm, "I'll buy you lunch. Just think of it as my thank you for possible getting me involved in the festival this year. 'Corporate Hang Ups' is still in production! Everyday, there's something changed or different with that film, and I have to keep changing the music accordingly. It's almost an entirely different movie than when Schwartzberg first showed me the script. I think I'm tempted to keep all the originals and use them again on another film. I've practically written three entire scores for the one picture."

Dawson laughed going along with her as she led them all in the direction of the restaurant she was set on. He enjoyed her light presence and the sound of her voice as she talked. During the time they had spent together working on his film, he'd come to respect her and just enjoy her as a person. And Burke was his own unique kind of fun.

"Hello, you beautiful thing you," he said to the hostess of Ven Dega's, in his soft tenor, leaning against the podium with both arms crossed. He leaned forward and rested his chin on them and looked her over with his pale green eyes. "Molly, you are looking all kinds of tempting today. Are you on the menu?"

Molly, a very petite blonde who had, "I'm really an actress just doing this to pay the bills," written all over her, looked at him shyly and giggled. "You don't look so bad yourself there, Burkie poo."

 _Burkie Poo?_ Dawson mouthed, basically to himself since no one was paying him any attention, and looked over at them in surprise, eyebrows once again ascending the forehead. He chuckled softly as the hostess guided them to their table, lagging behind, watching everything, and never getting enough of it.

Delsie greeted people with charm and wit as she passed, stopping to say standard courtesies to each acquaintance, while Burke seemed to flirt hellaciously with everyone, male, female, and a few of whom Dawson couldn't be certain, and yet he managed, somehow, not to overdo the whole thing. By the time they reached their table, Dawson had become somewhat impressed.

"What are you grinning at over there, Spielberg Boy?" Delsie asked over her water glass. He'd mentioned two Spielberg films in a row. One time! And she'd labeled him.

"This is the first time I've been out with you, it's a total thrill. I feel like a kid in a candy store," he said with laughter, "I feel like I did the first time I saw Jurassic Park."

"Spielberg again, this boy is obsessed," Burke said, widening his eyes dramatically.

Dawson cut him a mock glare.

"Oh Dawson, gorgeous, you know I love you, quirks and all," Burke tossed, opening his menu and disappearing behind it.

"So what's good to eat here?" Dawson asked, turning his attention to Delsie.

"Everything, obviously," she replied, "just let me order, is there anything in particular that you hate as far as food goes?"

"Liver?" he tossed out, not really certain what to say. "We could avoid fish, I like it but I can get fish at home."

"Oh, but Dawson, this is Ven Dega's, you've never had their fish. We are ordering the salmon!"

He smiled and gave a slight shake of his head. "Whatever you say," he sighed and leaned against the padded bench back.

"Why the long face?" Delsie asked after placing their order.

"You do realized this picture is still without a title?" he commented taping his fork negligently on the tabletop, pushing it through his fingers, turning it over and repeating the motion.

"So, it's not that big of a deal, really," she said, sweeping a lock of long, shiny black hair off her shoulder.

"Not a big deal?" he laughed. "Who's gonna go to see "that Untitled Dawson Leery flick"? It doesn't portend well, in my mind, that I cannot think of a title to a movie that I made, with a script that I wrote."

"Such things happen, Babe, we can't all be founts of creativity all the time," Burke commented, playing idly with his napkin, before laying it gracefully in his lap. "Find someone to name it for you. Surely one of your little friends this movie is about has some ideas."

"Well, I would normally ask Joey, but she's gone off to Paris and is, apparently, not speaking to me."

"She was which one?" Delsie asked.

"Sammy."

"What about the others?" Burked asked leaning forward. "You on the outs with them as well?"

"Well, Jack and Jen are in New York, I could give them a call and get some input, I suppose. Pacey… Pacey is great with porn titles," he started to grin but sobered quickly. "But…we aren't really talking either." He frowned staring into his glass. Was Pacey alright? Was he freaking out over this trial? Was he beating himself up? Did he have any hope of being acquitted? The thoughts spilled, unbidden into his mind.

"My goodness. If you ask me that does not portend well." Delsie's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Maybe it doesn't," Dawson said taking a drink of his water. "But despite how things are at the moment, it was all of them pulling together, pulling strings, and being pushy that got the movie made in the first place. So maybe that is what will really show through."

"I think it must, or else why was I so drawn to it?" Delsie stated.

 

~*~*~*~*~

Doug entered his apartment quietly checking the couch before tossing his keys noisily onto a shelf near the door. He headed for the kitchen, looking to grab a bite to eat while on his break. When he turned, he found Pacey asleep at the small desk in the corner.

He was still wearing his shirt from Arnold's Marina, his head resting on his arms, which were folded onto of a pile of papers. It was a familiar sight. Every evening after working at the marina and before heading out to the bar, Pacey would pour over every piece of paper he had from his job at Remmick Luers, hoping for some piece of info that could save him. Or, at the very least, lessen the blow.

"Pace," he said gently laying a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Pace, wake up, It's almost 7:00."

Pacey jerked awake and sat up quickly, looking around, slightly disoriented. He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, rubbing away the sleep. "Thanks, Dougie. I guess I fell asleep."

"Next time, you should try for the couch, it's a bit more comfortable," Doug tossed out before continuing his way to the kitchen. He stood and stared at the closed refrigerator door for a long moment, his worry for Pacey clouding his mind.

"You want me to whip up dinner?" Pacey called from the living room, and Doug sighed.

"No, Pace, you need to get ready for work, and I need to just eat something quick and be on my way." He moved into the room and looked Pacey over as he stood and stretched. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin seemed a bit pale. "You know Pacey, I'm hardly here at all during the day, and you usually sleep in the afternoons. You should take the bed."

Pacey shook his head. "Nah, Doug I couldn't do that."

"Yes you can, I insist. You can close the door and the curtains, so you won't hear me if I need to come by. Hey, you could run the fan! That's what I do when I have to work nights. Makes a nice white noise to blanket out the sounds outside. Works like a charm."

Pacey yawned and scratched his stomach distractedly. "Yeah, ok Doug, whatever you say." He turned and headed toward the bathroom.

 

~*~*~*~*~

"Good evening, Ms. Kieffer," Doug said, standing in front of Glory on the opposite side of the bar. "May I have a quick word with you?"

Damn, Pacey thought, looking up at the sound of his brother's voice. Everyday, it seemed someone was coming in to check up on him. Bessie; Frank, Paul and Graham in shifts, even Gale had made an appearance or two. He watched the two of them for a moment, and then turned back to his job, keeping his ear tuned in to their discussion.

"Doug, I believe that my name is Glory."

"Just trying to be professional," he said flatly, tucking his thumbs into his belt.

"Ok, so this is a business discussion then," Pacey heard her reply. He tried to look busy cleaning glasses, wiping down the glossy mahogany bar, but his eyes kept darting back to them as he listened.

"You could say that," Doug responded. "Why is my underage little brother tending bar in your establishment?" Pacey bit his lip to keep from releasing a frustrated sigh.

"Why wouldn't he be?" she asked covertly, "He's smart, friendly, charming, and a vivacious flirt," she said. She turned her head toward him and he quickly darted his eyes away looking very interested in the glass he was drying. "The girls love him. He's good for business."

"State regulations require that persons be over the age of twenty-one in order to pour alcohol," Doug said, he sounded almost resigned, as if he would give in, and Pacey found himself confused. He must be mistaken, this was Doug. They'd been getting along lately but still, this was the law they were talking about.

"He's not twenty-one?" Glory asked, giving him a kittenish grin. Doug shook his head, but Pacey thought he noticed his lips turn up slightly at the corner, and his eyes crinkle a bit. He was just flat out staring at them now. "Are you sure about that?" Glory added. Pacey furrowed his brow, in mild confusion.

"Glory," Doug said warningly, but there was little behind it.

"Because, I'd hate to think that I had to fire the only decent bartender I've managed to find in over a year."

"You could get in really big trouble, and he already has enough trouble on his plate," he stated, shaking his head.

"Doug, I'm kidding! It was a one-time thing; we were slammed with the Octo-brew-fest. He was there, and he apparently knows his way around liquor." Doug looked quickly over at him. Pacey started whistling, and turned back to his menial task.

Jewel came up beside him, reaching around him for some glasses and bumping him playfully with her hip. He smiled at her. "What's up with Doug?" she asked setting the glasses down on the bar and scooping ice into each glass.

"Butting in as per usual."

"Brothers, hmm?"

"I guess."

Jewel laughed. "I had to stop mine from kicking Trey's ass this morning."

"And why would your brother feel the need to kick your boyfriend's ass?"

"Well, that's just it, he's not my boyfriend, never has been."

"No, you two just have a kid together, and screw around occasionally."

"Actually there hasn't been much screwing around since 'the Lex', I've been a little…but…" She handed the two drinks off to one of the servers and turned back to him. "He never wanted to have that label. He was afraid I would use it to control him, or something. Still is, I guess, since he announced last night that he wants us to see other people."

"Son of a bitch," Pacey said shaking his head.

"Pretty much, yeah," she commented with a nod, jutting out her full lower lip. She moved down the bar to fill her next order, and he watched her for a moment before letting his eyes drift back to Glory and Doug. He could no longer hear their conversation, because a new group of people had come up to the bar, but after a moment they moved on and the voices drifted back into audible range.

"As a favor, I'll just pretend I didn't hear about last night. Anybody finds out? I wasn't here, I don't know anything."

"That's fine," she said leaning into him across the bar. "There's a lot of things we don't know about each other, aren't there, Doug?" She smiled. He glared at her. Glory winked, Doug smiled, and Pacey's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Now shoo, go help little old ladies cross the street or something. You make the customers nervous." She waved with her hand. He nodded and strode away from her coming over to where Pacey was putting away the glass mugs he'd been drying.

"Hey Dougie, what's up?"

"You know exactly what's up because you were listening."

Pacey grinned, "Ok, so I was."

"I just want you to be careful. Don't heap any more trouble onto yourself than you've already got."

Pacey took a deep sigh, just looked at Doug, and Doug looked back at him. It was a long, heavy pause.

"Also I found this when I was rummaging through my desk," Doug said finally. He set a small, wooden-handled pocketknife down onto the bar.

Pacey looked it over before picking it up, turning the familiar object over in his hand. "You're the one who stole it," he said, no accusation in his tone.

"You stole mine," Doug said his voice equally quiet.

Pacey smirked, "Yeah, I did. Dawson and I used it to become blood brothers. I stuck it in our time capsule." He frowned slightly at the memory then smiled back at Doug again. "You should keep it. In case any of those crazy psycho killers; who we all know haunt Capeside in droves decides to jump ya."

Doug shook his head, leaning on the bar with his elbow, "Nah, that's what I have my gun for." He smiled and Pacey grinned back. "Besides what self-respecting older brother wants to carry around a pocketknife with his little brother's initials on it?"

Pacey laughed, looking at the familiar letters in reference.

"See ya later, Dougie," he said as he turned back to his work.

"Later, Pace."

 

~*~*~*~*~

Dawson strode through the doors to the little upscale café where he was scheduled to meet Santos Cangialosi for brunch. The thought made him giddy, because he could hardly believe he was hanging out in L.A. meeting up with people in the Biz, and having brunch!

Santos was a small time director, who was in need of a good P.A. He had gotten Dawson's name from Todd, of course, and though Dawson wanted to focus on making his own films, he was desperately in need of money, and he figured it never hurt to watch others work. So far, the only director he'd really ever seen in action was Todd, and well, that had to be a unique experience because, well Todd was Todd. Since it was unlikely that Spielberg would be calling him anytime soon for assistance on the fourth installment of Indiana Jones, he'd happily settle for Cangialosi.

He took a seat near the window, at one of the tall, teakwood tables, and ordered one of their infamous cinnamon rolls and a raspberry Italian soda. He was in the process of taking his first bite of the enormous, dinner plate-sized pastry, when the loud voice caught up in an intense conversation, captured his attention.

The voice was a bit familiar, and he turned slightly in his chair, looking over his shoulder to see who it was. His eyes lit upon Mr. Liddell, regal and imposing, his broad, straight shoulders filling out his expensive tailored suit, his large form seeming precarious as he lounged back in the small bistro chair, his smile belying the rough tone of his words.

"Don't piss your pants Roger. It isn't anything you need to worry about. I have the whole thing under control." There was a pause before the commanding voice cut in again, "They won't find it, and if they do, they are not going to trace it to you or me, they will trace it to that grease ball lackey of yours. I have everything under control."

There was another pause, and Dawson suddenly felt guilty for listening to the conversation and wondering what it was about. He tried to eat his roll and not listen, but it was impossible not too because the man was right behind him.

"Jesus Christ, Roger! You are a pansy ass. When I met you, I thought to myself, here is a real man, a man who has a pair, but apparently I was wrong. I hate being wrong Rog. Let Remmick deal with their own mess, you just leave the rest of it to me."

"Hello, Dawson Leery?" asked a gentle voice beside him, the tones tinted with a hint of Italian accent. The lilting sound was a vivid contrast to the conversation that Dawson had been listening in on. His head shot up a guilty look crossing his features before he made eye contact with the man who had spoken his name.

"Um, yeah that's me."

“Hi, I’m Santos Cangialosi,” he introduced himself holding out his hand to Dawson, who took it firmly in his and returned the shake.  
  
“It’s an honor to meet you.”  
  
“I see you’ve already ordered.”  
  
Dawson looked sheepish, “Sorry, I was hungry.”  
  
“Don’t be, these people make cinnamon rolls that could make you change your religion.”  
  
“They are good,” Dawson agreed.  
  
“So you P.A.’d for Todd Carr I hear,” commented, “how was that?”  
  
Dawson smirked, “Interesting.”  
  
“I’d guess so. Todd is a very unique person.” He rattled off an order to the waitress who had arrived as they spoke, and turned back to him. “How would you feel about working for me? I make sentimental, heartstring type, cultural drama, I don’t fire people right away, I usually torture them slowly with banal annoying tasks instead. You interested?”  
  
“Sounds perfect,” Dawson said with a grin.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
“My God, you are bad at that,” Pacey said, coming to stand at the edge of the partially trimmed lawn. The part that wasn’t trimmed was audaciously long, especially for the ritzy part of Capeside.   
  
He was holding a Popsicle, and she eyed it longingly as she continued to push the cumbersome lawnmower through the jungle of grass. He pushed his icy treat into his mouth sucking off the sweet, grape-flavored liquid, rolling it around on his tongue, the chill of it bringing a small comfort in the intense heat. He looked her over as she moved away. Strands of her hair that had escaped her ponytail were plastered to her face with sweat, her men’s white undershirt clung to her body, and her bra was clearly visible through the thin, damp material.   
  
He took a moment to enjoy the view.   
  
“You know it helps if you actually engage the drive,” he said, finally taking pity on her, raising his voice as she came near him again, hoping to be heard above the roar of the machine. She released the handle, effectively killing the engine and he thought he heard her swear under her breath.  
  
“I knew that,” she said quietly, almost to herself as she finally turned to acknowledge his existence. Embarrassment was visible in her whiskey-colored eyes, and he smiled at her, before taking another hit off his Popsicle. He thought she might be blushing, but it was hard to tell, since her face was already flushed with heat and exertion. “And I suppose you are an expert lawn manicurist?” she asked, seeming to recover her embarrassment.  
  
“I’ve done my time in the lawn mowing department,” he responded.  
  
“I see.”   
  
“Well, a kid’s got to earn money somehow.”  
  
“And just what did you need money for?” she asked.  
  
“Comic books,” he said grinning wickedly, “of course.”   
  
“Mmm, hmm,” she said smirking at him. She watched as he shoved the Popsicle in his mouth again. When it reappeared from the depths of his mouth she snatched it away, and it disappeared into hers.  
  
“Hey!” he objected, frowning at his empty fingers, then at her as she sucked enthusiastically on his Popsicle.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, handing it back. “God, it is way too hot! It’s supposed to be fall. Is this place often subject to strange heat waves out of season?”  
  
Pacey thought for a moment, after giving her a good glare for stealing his treat. “You know actually, there was this one time, my sophomore year of high school, where we had summer-like temperatures for about two months in the middle of winter.” He shook his head a little and shrugged. “It made for a nice Christmas vacation.”   
  
He ran his tongue over the length of the purple sweet, and then around the bottom, catching several drips before they could fall onto his hand. “So tell me, how is it, that a very independent and capable woman, such as yourself, doesn’t know how to work her own lawn mower?”  
  
“Ugh,” she bowed her head, as she swiped a hand across her damp brow. “I got lazy and hired a young, spry college boy to do it for me. Alas, he had to return to the hallowed halls of his higher education.”  
  
“Ah, and what did college boy get in return for all his manual labor?”  
  
“Oh, you know the usual, couple of bucks, glass of lemonade, quick roll in the grass clippings,” she said matter-of-factly, giving a little wave of her hand toward her yard.  
  
“Mmmmhmm,” he responded raising his eyebrows. “And are you looking for a replacement?”  
  
“No,” she said shaking her head at him. “It’s the last time I’ll have to mow it this year. I hope,” she said looking around. Pacey followed her gaze. Taking in the bright, hot sunshine beating down on them, the green grass and still leafy trees. It looked more like August instead of late October.  
  
“Seriously,” he said, smiling softly and giving her a little nod. “Let me mow your lawn.”  
  
“No, that’s ok. Thanks, but I’m fine.”  
  
“Really, it’s the least I could do.”  
  
“For what?” she asked furrowing her delicate brow.  
  
“For the job, and for covering with Doug.”  
  
“Oh,” she waved it off with her hand and gave a shrug. He just looked at her. “Alright, jeez, who am I to turn down a chivalrous gesture from a member the male species.” She threw up her hands and stepped back from the lawnmower.   
  
“That’s right, now you just get yourself inside and whip me up some of that lemonade.”  
  
“Oh, now I see it all clearly,” she said as he handed her his cleaned Popsicle stick. He grinned at her roguishly, wrapping his large hands around the handle she’d abandoned. “Anything else you’ll be expecting as payment for your services?” she asked teasingly.  
  
“I don’t know, you’ve got a big yard.” He reached behind him and tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it off over his head, and tossing to her. “I might not be up for anything else,” he said suggestively. He couldn’t hold his straight face though, and started laughing as she slapped his bare arm. She began to walk away and he was reaching for the pull cord on the mower when she turned back around.  
  
“Something tells me you’d never be that tired,” she tossed at him, and then hurried through her back door. He shook his head, grinning, before giving the cord a strong pull, causing the engine to roar back to life.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Hey there,” Doug said with a smile as he opened his front door to find Glory standing there. “To what do I owe this visit?”  
  
She held up a shirt that looked vaguely familiar to him. “Pacey left that at my house yesterday. Is he here?”   
  
She moved passed him into the room and he looked at the shirt and then her again, “And how did he happen to leave his shirt at your house?” he asked, his tone suggestive.  
  
“He mowed my lawn. I just wanted to return it, and… what? Why are you giving me that look?”  
  
“He mowed your lawn? Great, Glo, that’s just great,” Doug said shaking his head.  
  
“What? So I let some guy, who totally insisted by the way, mow my lawn and now I’m scum?” she demanded in exasperation. “Ok! Explain this to me. Please.”  
  
“Ok, Glory, Try this; Pacey’s not here. He’s not here because he’s at work,” he continued as though she hadn’t opened her mouth to speak, “At his other job, his mid-day job. After that, he’ll come home, shower, and try to sleep, which he won’t do, because he will end up at that desk over there going through paperwork, the same paperwork he’s been going through for over a month. Then after that, he’ll get up, change and head of to your bar. At two thirty, when he is finished there, he’ll walk down to the market place where he’ll unload fish for the merchants for a few hours, then it’s off again to Arnold’s, where he’s at right now, it’s just one big endless cycle. He never sleeps I don’t know if he ever eats. I’m worried sick about him, and you have him mowing your lawn.”   
  
“Ok, that was a lot to take in all at once,” she said still standing by the door as Doug went down the hallway to toss Pacey’s shirt into the laundry. When he returned she continued, “He has three jobs? What on earth does a kid his age need three jobs for?”  
  
“Don’t ask,” he said flopping on the couch. “It’s drama best left for Dallas.”  
  
“I remember that show,” she said laughing and flopping down beside him. “I remember Mom making this huge deal when they shot that J.R. guy. She was such a freak.” She shook her head as she spoke, looking off into the distance remembering. He looked out at her from behind his hands and started laughing.  
  
“Douglas! Are you laughing, you are, you’re laughing; are you sure you’re feeling well.” She leaned in to feel his forehead.  
  
“No,” he said, leaning back and putting his arm around her, “it’s entirely your fault. How much longer are you planning to be in town? Because you are destroying my reputation as hardnosed Capeside cop.”  
  
The giggle started softly, hidden behind her hand, then he looked at her, horrified by the sound, and her laughter broke forth, shaking her whole body as she leaned forward and held her stomach.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Hardnose!” she barely squeezed out between gasps for air.  
  
“I’ll have you know that in this town I am a by-the-book, no nonsense … your laughter is not helping,” he said sternly as she rolled over and hid her face in the hand-stitched decorative pillow.  
  
She came up for air, holding up a hand as if in surrender. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She finally took control of her laughter, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. “You are completely right; you are a hardnosed, no-nonsense cop.” She gave him an enthusiastic two thumbs-up.  
  
“Thanks a lot,” Doug said, sighing with saintly tolerance as she released another chuckle at his expense.  
  
She sighed as well and leaned back. “What are the chances huh?”  
  
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The chances of what?”  
  
“Of me running away to this town, and you being here?”  
  
“I’d say pretty damn good since I’ve lived here pretty much my whole life.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t know that. You and I never talked about it, and Cam never told me where you were from. I was just looking some little place to hide out.” She shrugged, “And there you were.”  
  
“There I was huh?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
Doug smiled, and put his arm around her. “So, you didn’t answer my question.”  
  
“Because you already know that answer,” she said softly. “I’ll leave when they find him and I am free.”  
  
“Do you think you will ever be free?”  
  
“No, probably not.”  
  
“I’d change it if I could.”  
  
“I know.” She turned slightly and looked up at him. “I’d bring back Cam if I could.”  
  
“Mmm, one for both of us,” he said then added quietly as he sunk deeper into the sofa. “So would I Glo. I would change it all. If I could go back… there’s just so much I want to change.”  
  
“Maybe that’s why you can’t.”


	8. Chapter 8

_Can't you see, it's killing me?_ _  
 _I'm my own worst enemy_  
 _Knock me down, I'll keep on moving_  
 _It's the art of losing…__ American Hi-Fi  
  
  
  
  
He heard the sharp clack of hard-soled boots on the concrete behind him and turned, surprised not only by the presence of another person out at this hour, but also to see his boss hurrying to catch up with him.  
  
“Hey,” he said uncertainly when she fell into step beside him.  
  
“Hey you,” she said, offering no explanation for her appearance.  
  
“Should you really be out wandering the streets by yourself at this ungodly hour of the morning?” he asked after a moment.  
  
“But I’m not by myself, I’m with you.” She gave him a little bump with her hip, and he laughed.  
  
“So you are,” he commented, “and why is that exactly?”  
  
“What? Can’t an employer follow one of her employees home from work without a reason?”  
  
“I believe that it’s called stalking.”  
  
“Oooo, that sounds dirty.” Her grin widened and she waggled her eyebrows at him.  
  
He gave her another bemused look. “Are you flirting with me?”  
  
She gasped and brought a hand to her chest in mock indignation. “I would never!” They both chuckled. She stuck her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “I just wanted to get to know you a little. At work… well you flirt a bit with the customers, but you are usually pretty quiet.”  
  
“Well, how do you know that I’m not on my way home for a well-earned rest?”  
  
“Because your brother told me you work at the market.”  
  
“Ah, Deputy Big Mouth strikes again.”  
  
“So, do you go straight to work, or …what do you do to kill the time?” They had just reached Chubb’s, and he opened the glass door, jingling the bell above, and motioned for her to enter before him.   
  
“I eat breakfast,” he said with a smile. They moved to the counter, taking seats side by side, until Doris arrived. She looked Glory over as she would an arrival from an alien planet and Pacey chuckled.  
  
“What did I do?” Glory asked, “Am I not dressed appropriately for a diner breakfast?”  
  
“She looked at me that exact same way when I first came in,” he said as he took the cup of coffee from Doris who, he noticed, was looking at him oddly as well. “What’s up?”  
  
“You’re smiling,” she said.  
  
“I am?” he asked, surprised at the thought. He almost brought his hands up to feel if it was true.  
  
Doris nodded, “It’s not what I’m used to.” She shrugged. “The usual?” Pacey nodded. “And for your lady friend?” He found himself smiling again at that reference and looked over at Glory raising his eyebrows in question. He rested his cheek on his fist, leaning his elbow on the counter, and watched her as she looked the menu over thoughtfully.  
  
“I’ll have a cup of coffee, black. Um, four pancakes, with sausage and bacon and a piece of ham on the side. I’ll have white toast with that and eggs, over easy. I’d also like one of those chocolate chip muffins, please. Oh, and a glass of orange juice. Thank you.” She folded her hands on the counter and gave a nod.  
  
Pacey smiled again even with his brow furrowed, “Is that all?” he asked, “you don’t want a doughnut?”  
  
“Do they have doughnuts?” she asked excitement filling her melodic voice, she turned back to the spinning, tabletop menu, and he laughed, a full heartfelt laugh that made him feel slightly out of breath, especially when she called Doris back, realizing she’d forgotten to order hash browns. When the order arrived, he got up and moved to his usual booth and gestured for her to follow. She took the bench opposite him.  
  
He relaxed against the back for a moment, then reached back and pulled his book out of his pocket, finding it uncomfortable to sit on, and set it on the table negligently. He saw her reach for it and tried to snatch it back but she beat him to it. She sat back and looked over the cover.  
  
“What to Eat. A Food Lovers Guide to Paris’. Hmm.” She opened it up and perused the pages. “You like food?”  
  
“When I’m hungry,” he said darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“You like Paris?”  
  
“Never been.”  
  
“Sooo...”  
  
“Look, I have, upon occasion, been known to cook a meal or two, okay. I was just looking it over.” He snatched the volume back. “Just something to kill the time.”  
  
“Just a meal or two?” she said smirking at him. “That’s not what Sophie Carter told me, she said you were a chef, and a really good one at that.”  
  
He groaned and let his head fall back, “God, you are stalking me.”  
  
“No I’m not! It’s just that, well it seems some of the people I know, know you. They never see you any more, and when they do you blow them off. They are worried about you, so they ask me since I see you everyday. They seem to think you are a pretty great guy.”  
  
“They apparently don’t meet very many people.”  
  
“You’re not a great guy?” she asked looking him over.  
  
“No,” he said calmly as their food was set before them. “I, am a fuck up. Was,” he gestured with his fork, “am, and always will be.”  
  
“Mmm, that’s a rather depressing theory, no wonder you never smile.”  
  
He frowned at her slightly. “Eat your food.” She smiled at him and then began to dig into her meal. He was smiling broadly when he finally set down his fork and noticed she was picking at the last crumbs of her muffin, her plate otherwise clean.  
  
“What time do you have to be at the market?”  
  
“My God, woman. Where the hell did you put all that food?” he asked at the same time, playfully looking under the table.   
  
“Hollow leg,” she said with a shrug.  
  
“I have never seen anyone eat like that. I mean, my friend Joey can really put it away when she wants to, but this…” he trailed off for a moment as his words came back to his ears. “But, um, you must be some kind of Olympic champion,” he continued to cover his discomfort, but his voice held less passion sounding flat, even to his own ears.  
  
“Wouldn’t that be cool?” she asked with a laugh, seeming not to notice his faltering. “Now, on the first plate we have Gloria Kieffer!” And she made a loud “Ahh” sound to simulate applause. He smiled at her.  
  
“Are you seriously like this all the time?”  
  
“Sure, life’s short, why be down?”  
  
“So, you just be happy, it’s that easy for you.”  
  
“Nope, nothing is that easy, some things are just worth it. So what time do you work?”  
  
He looked at his watch as it chose that moment to begin beeping at him. “Right now, actually,” he answered and began to gather his stuff.  
  
“Ok, so I’ll see you tonight then?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Good, today is Thursday, Karaoke.”  
  
“What? You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“But, it’s never been Karaoke night before,” he stated helplessly.  
  
“Machine’s been broke, Jake just got it fixed!”  
  
“God help me,” he sighed and trudged out the door.  
  
“It’s going to be fu-un!” she called after him.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Pacey looked up from his cup of coffee, his attention caught by the flurry of movement near him, and watched with a mixture of dread and bemusement as Sophie took the seat opposite him. He watched her fuss about with her jacket and purse as she tried to get comfortable. She looked up at him with her large dark chocolate eyes and smiled. “Hey there Pacey-Cola, how are you today?”  
  
He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “Why am I not surprised?”  
  
“If you are supposed to be in hiding, you shouldn’t sit in the window seat,” she said, smartly pointing out to the sidewalk where people were passing by. The waitress arrived and she gave her order, smiling and calling the woman by name.  
  
“What if you just want people to mind their own business?” Pacey asked when the waitress had left.  
  
“In this town? Yeah right,” she laughed. “Besides, I’m not even pestering you; I just saw a friend through the window, and decided to stop for a warm beverage.”  
  
“You hate coffee.”  
  
“I’m having an apple cider!” She gestured toward the retreating waitress as if he should have heard her order as it was placed.  
  
“Look,” Pacey said, leaning back in the dark wing-backed chair, one of the many eclectic styles used through out the coffee shop. “I don’t need a lecture from you people, alright? I’m doing what I have to do. What’s right for me. You are not my parents, and trust me, that’s a good thing. The last thing I need is any more of their kind of love and attention.”  
  
“You’re right, we’re not you parents. I’m insulted by the way, I’m not that much older than you. But friends?” She said the last part softly. “I thought we were friends Pace.”  
  
Pacey let out a short laugh and looked down at his cup. “Whatever that means.”  
  
Sophie drew back a breadth and looked at him. It seemed like forever before she nodded. “OK.” She retrieved her purse and rose from the chair, before she could move past him, he reached out, across a great expanse of space, miles of dark wasteland between them that was really just a high-gloss cherry wood tabletop, and took hold of her forearm in a gentle grip.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said. She turned and he looked up at her, seeing the drawn look of sadness and the small wrinkle of worry in her brow. He berated himself for striking out at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…mean it. Sit.” She did as he said and continued to look at him silently as the waitress delivered her drink, still wearing he coat, her purse still hanging from her shoulder.   
  
Pacey could smell the sweetness of the Apple Cider fill the air. The sharp mouthwatering tang of the apple, mixed with the thick aroma of caramel and cream. He gestured toward the cup, desperate to break the tension of her gaze.   
  
“That smells really good. Are you going to drink it?”  
  
She looked away from him finally, her gaze falling to her cup, and he almost sighed with relief as she wrapped her hands around it, pulling it to her before taking a drink.  
  
“It is. Very good.” She took another sip and smiled.  
  
“Everyone seems to think I need a caretaker,” he said, fiddling with the straw in his cup.  
  
“We just miss you. I mean, all this last summer when I first met you, you seemed pretty happy. Not euphorically so, but fairly content, and you were pretty fun to be around, you came by the house, we hung out. Now, we rarely see you, and when we do, you seem morose, and you don’t look well. I know I’m butting in where I don’t belong, Pace, but my friends are my family. And I take care of my family.” Her tone was reminiscent of the Godfather, and Pacey knew the similarity was on target because, even in the short time he’d known her, he’d seen her go after those that had hurt her family. “I know none of this has been easy, I know it probably scares the hell out of you. I know it would me. But you can talk about it.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“Okay.” She smiled and took another drink of her cider. “I really miss you at Bonne Belle. It’s been hell since you left. Heck, it was hell while you where there, but it’s even more so now. Sonja has no flair, and she’s very self-serving.”  
  
“I noticed,” he responded. “So you’re still unhappy with working.”  
  
“Eh,” she shrugged, “Everyone should have such problems, right? Healthy, happy kids, steady job, great husband…”  
  
“But?” he dropped in, calling on her to open up, knowing she kept things bottled inside until they could eat her alive or she exploded on everyone she cared about.  
  
He knew the type.  
  
He wondered if that’s why they’d always gotten on so well. They were both pragmatic, self-deprecating smartasses.  
  
“It’s no big deal, forget I said anything. I mean look at what you’ve got to deal with.”  
  
“Thanks for that,” he said with a smirk. “Sophie, this is me, you can talk to me. I don’t judge.”  
  
“Except yourself?”  
  
“Exactly,” he replied narrowing his eyes at her.  
  
“Fine, but it’s pathetic,” she said throwing up her hands.  
  
“Fire away.”  
  
“I hate my job.”  
  
He laughed. “I already know that part.”  
  
“I hate it, but it runs my life. Everything else has to be worked around it.” She paused and looked out the window. He waited for her to continue, quietly sipping his coffee. “I got asked to do another wedding last week. Country club set, Pace. A really big deal.”  
  
“That’s great, that means you’re starting to build a reputation.”  
  
“I had to turn it down.”  
  
His eyebrows rose. “Why?”  
  
“Because, it’s either wedding, or kids, kids or wedding. And this was a big wedding, meaning lots of time. I miss my kids, and my hours at work can’t give. My time with my kids is so little as it is, I get them up, dressed, fed, drop them off at daycare. Then pick them up, all worn out from work, they are stressed, I feed them, undress them and stick them back in bed. That’s it. And what’s worse is I’m starting to resent Graham for it.”  
  
“Why? Do you blame him?” Pacey asked, his concern and desire to help evident in his voice. There may not be hope for the town screw up, no dreams to be sought or held in the palm of his hand, but there could be hope for Sophie’s dream, and he wanted to find it.  
  
“Yes and no,” she sighed and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know. It’s just that we had this talk, before we got married and we both agreed I would stay home with the kids and now he’s reneging. I know that’s a completely childish way to feel, but I can’t help it. It’s all about the almighty buck; he needs me to keep the steady job.”  
  
“So he can keep working for himself doing something that he loves.” Pacey added for the clarification he felt was needed. It was his turn to sigh and look out the window. It had started to rain, and he watched the trails of water that streamed down the windowpane. He was still watching them as he spoke. “Look, Soph, you know I like Graham, but that’s bullshit. It makes sense you would want to make that sacrifice at the beginning, but now Graham’s furniture is well known, his craftsmanship is moving on to legendary. He’s established, he doesn’t really have the right to hold you back just because he’s afraid.”  
  
“I know but…”  
  
“But nothing, we catered that Horborowski wedding, I was there. I don’t know much about weddings, but it sure seemed to go off with out a hitch; they got married, everybody was happy. Including you. I don’t believe that Graham doesn’t want that for you. I’ll bet if you talk to him you’ll find out he does and he’s just scared that something will happen, you know him.”  
  
“Yeah, aside from the rock climbing, he always wants to play it safe.”  
  
“Besides, this wedding planner bit has the potential to make a lot more money than a plate artist at a pseudo snazzy Italian restaurant on the cape,” he added with a grin. “And you could probably have the kids with you for a lot of it, you know work from home. I think you need to talk to Graham and then call those people up and tell them you changed your mind.”  
  
She stared at him for a moment, and he could see all the ideas bouncing around behind those eyes, as they slowly began to sparkle with hope and a smile slowly spread across her face.  
  
“I have to go,” she said grabbing up her purse and hurrying for the door. She came right back a second later and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. “Forgot my cider,” she said with a smirk. “You take care of yourself.”  
  
“I will,” he said to oblige her. “You remember that you have people around you who are willing to help.”  
  
She stopped in her tracks and looked down at him with a huge smile, the one that always made him smile in return. “Maybe you should remember that too.” She ruffled his hair and ran out the door. He watched her hurry past the window, offering him a wave even though she was being soaked, before continuing on her way.  
  
He turned back to his coffee, surprised to still find it warm. He wondered at the miracle of Styrofoam, as he sat there grinning to himself alone in the small shop.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Harrison Ford.  
  
Harrison Ford was standing not five feet from him. He managed to stop himself from giggling, but he still almost dropped his coffee.  
  
He had been perusing cabinetry with Cangialosi, not at all surprised at being requested to do a non-movie related, personal errand for his director, when Ford had stopped and started talking to Santos. Harrison mentioned how long it had been. Santos asked after Calista, and Dawson had almost passed out when Santos introduced him because he was holding his breath.  
  
“Don’t forget to breathe, kid,” Ford said as he reached out and shook his hand and Dawson obeyed, inhaling deeply.  
  
“It great to meet you,” Dawson said, managing it without sounding too strangled. The actor chuckled and turned back to Santos and they began to discuss the craftsmanship, and carpentry work of the different cabinets, while Dawson followed behind in complete awe. It was an hour later that Santos made his decision, ordered up the cabinets he wanted, and they were stepping out in to the sunshine. Dawson finally started to feel reality again.  
  
The older man, with his deep olive skin and his very Romanesque features, turned, took one look at him, and laughed. It was a hearty laugh that filled Dawson’s ears and echoed off the surrounding buildings. He reached out, took the packages Dawson was carrying for him, and said. “Go ahead Leery, call one of your little friends and tell them that you met Han Solo. I won’t think less of you for it.”  
  
Dawson laughed too, then reached in his back pocket while Santos handed off the packages to the chauffeur. He immediately pressed 5 on his speed dial, grinning like a mad man as he brought the phone to his ear. The smile left when the warning tones sounded in his ear.  
  
“The cellular number you have dialed is no longer in service or is outside the coverage area. Please check the number and try again…”  
  
He looked down at the screen of his phone, watching silently as Pacey’s name flashed on the screen. He’d dialed Pacey’s cell phone. Pacey didn’t have a cell phone anymore.  
  
Pacey had been the first person he had thought of. Who else would he want to share Indiana Jones with? But Pacey didn’t have a cell phone anymore, and they weren’t friends any more. So what was the point?  
  
He sighed, not even realizing he did so, flipped the phone shut, shoved it into his back pocket and climbed into the waiting car.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Pacey turned up the collar of his jacket as a cold breeze blew across the back of his neck. Winter had decided to remind them that she was on her way, and their adventitious heat wave was quickly forgotten. He realized that soon the marina would be closing, and wondered what he would do to replace that income. He was tossing slippery fish one after the other, lost in his own little world when he thought he heard someone calling his name. He frowned and looked up, his changeable blue eyes searching out the source.  
  
“Pacey!”  
  
He looked up toward the upper boardwalk and noticed Bessie waving at him to get his attention. He gave a small wave in acknowledgment, and motioned for her to come down to him. He returned to his task and waited for her to approach.  
  
“Don’t look so nervous Bess, it’s just me.”   
  
“Well, I need to ask you a huge favor, and I’m feeling kind of guilty about it, but, well that Mason guy who owns the furnace repair shop, he… he’s kind of getting on my nerves, and you did so well with that piece of junk before, I thought maybe you would come by and look at it.”  
  
“What did he do?”  
  
“The furnace?”  
  
“No, the guy at the shop. Is he overcharging you?”  
  
Bessie snorted, “You could put it that way.”  
  
Pacey didn’t like the sound of that, and frowned. “He made a pass at you?” he demanded.  
  
“Pacey, it’s no big deal; it’s just that, without Bodie there, all of a sudden these guys think they can get away with anything.”  
  
He clenched his jaw and decided it was a battle best left for another time. “Ok, well, I don’t have to work at Arnold’s today so, I’ll be out there right after this. Ok?”  
  
“Ok, thanks a lot, Pace, I really appreciate it.”  
  
“Sure, no problem.”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
Pacey approached the front steps of the Potter B&B with a strange mix of dread and anticipation. The memories he knew awaited him there were both unwanted and craved simultaneously. He trudged up the familiar steps and knocked on the door he’d helped hang, a door he’d knocked at so many times, and a doorway he’d entered even more.  
  
The door opened and Bessie welcomed him, looking a little frazzled as Alexander buzzed around her legs like a satellite, and orchestrated the flight of his bright red Hot Wheels car.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he said waving her off as he saw she was about to lead him, seeing she had guests sitting around the table, awaiting their breakfast. “I know the way.” He gave a friendly nod to the guests, very glad he had showered before he came. He entered the room that housed the furnace, cracked open the front, and began looking it over.  
  
  
  
Bessie returned to the dining room smiling. “How is everything?” she asked, circling the table with another plate full of pancakes. “Would anyone like anything else?”  
  
“Um,” one of the guests choked out. “Could I get another glass of milk? These pancakes are very dry.”  
  
Bessie gritted her teeth and smiled even wider. “You certainly may, just a moment.” Only someone who knew her well would’ve heard the irritation running through the line.  
  
“When are we gonna get the heat back?” the woman beside him asked as Bessie poured his glass to the brim with fresh milk.  
  
“Yeah, your handyman has been back there for over an hour.”  
  
“I think maybe you need a new furnace.”  
  
“He’s probably just trying to jack up his price!” another guest added. “You’d better go check on him.”  
  
“He’s not trying to jack up his price,” she said, flatly. “It wouldn’t really do much good since I’m not paying him,” Bessie added under her breath, but decided to go check on the progress anyway. She opened the door to the furnace room and stepped inside turning to shut the door behind her.  
  
“Pace, how much longer do you…” She stopped in mid-question as she turned around and saw him. He was leaning against the wall, screwdriver in hand, as if had had just stopped to close his eyes for a minute, but he was fast asleep. He made a soft snoring sound and Bessie had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. She sighed, noting how innocent he looked sleeping, still able to see the child she’d known all her life when she looked at him. He was frowning in his sleep she noticed, and wondered if he always did. She tried to remember the last time she had seen him smile, or the last time she’d heard him charming a room with his humor.  
  
It had been a long time.  
  
“Pacey,” she said shaking him gently. He merely shuffled over into the corner made where the furnace met the wall, curling into it and dropping the screwdriver. “Pacey wake up.” She shook him harder. “Pacey!” she said sharply shaking him very hard when other attempts received no reaction.  
  
His eyes popped open and he looked at her vaguely, then suddenly his eyes grew wider as he realized where he was.  
  
“Oh God, Bess, I’m sorry, I just… you need to change the filter.” He pointed to the dirty one he’d pulled out earlier. “I mean the whole thing…” he yawned widely. “The whole thing is full of dust. I’ll clean it for you, but you need to change the filter more often because if you don’t…”  
  
“Pacey, you’re rambling.”  
  
“Hmm?” He looked up at her and she could see his eyes were still glazed with sleep. “When was the last time you slept?”  
  
He shrugged and struggled to his feet. “Doug works swing, and then there’s this trial, and all these papers. I wish I had my laptop, but I think Rich took it…” he shrugged again, unable to make sense of his words, and stared unseeing at the open furnace.  
  
“Come here.” She took his arm and half dragged him out of the room and down the hall. “Most of the guests are leaving this morning so it will be quiet, sleep in here.” She opened the door to a room and Pacey looked inside.  
  
“No, Bess, I can’t take one of your rooms, that’s how you make your money, it wouldn’t be right. Nope, I can’t,” he protested, even as she dragged him in after her. She turned him around and gave him a hard shove so that he fell backwards onto the mattress, bouncing twice before coming to rest.   
  
“Yes, you can and will. I’m never full in the off season, and I’m not going to fill up today, so go to sleep, Alex and I are going shopping for groceries. It will be nice and quiet. Not very warm, though, so I’ll get you another blanket.” She expected some more protestation from him and when she didn’t get it, she moved closer, looking him over and finding he’d already fallen back to sleep. She sighed again. “What are you doing to yourself Pacey Witter?”   
  
She scooted him farther up onto the mattress the best she could and removed his shoes, before going to the linen closet for a few extra blankets and burying him in them.  
  
“Sleep tight, Pace,” she said and quietly left the room.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Bessie tapped her index finger against her lower lip, twisted in consternation, as she studied the rows of boxes behind the frosted glass door in the freezer section of Molly’s. Did she want to buy DiGiorno, or Red Baron, which was on sale?  
  
Alex hung from her arm. Tired of standing still, he swung by his wrist, which she held firmly but gently in her grip. Her arm was relaxed, allowing the slow back and forth motion, and she ignored the irritation that it instigated inside of her.  
  
She sighed softly and pulled open the door, feeling the icy air from inside cascade over her, the warmer, humid air of the store making pretty frosted patterns on the glass as she reached in and pulled out several Red Baron Pizzas and placed them in her cart. She noticed she’d grabbed a meat trio pizza and picked it back up. She didn’t need a meat trio pizza anymore; there was no longer anyone at home to eat it. She put the box back in the freezer.  
  
“Lemme go Mommy,” Alex demanded, pushing at her hand.  
  
“Ok, but I need you to stay by the cart for Mommy, alright?”  
  
“Alright.”   
  
It lasted until the end of the first aisle. She didn’t know why she fell for the idea in the first place, it never ended well. Maybe that old idea was true: Children robbed you completely of all focus and sense.  
  
Alex spotted the cookies and tore off in that direction. “Look Mom! They have the aminal ones! Can we get some please?”  
  
Bodie always bought him the animal cookies with frosting and sprinkles. “Not today, baby. Mommy will make you some cookies when we get home.”  
  
“No! I want these cookies!” He grasped the bag to his chest and took off, leaving Bessie to stare after him in complete shock. He tore around the corner and ran smack into a set of black pant clad legs.  
  
He stopped and stepped back letting his eyes drift up the body of the giant slowly, semi-sweet chocolate orbs growing larger as his gaze continued up and up and up, taking in the light blue shirt, black jacket and shiny badge. At the top was a face he recognized. But it didn’t really comfort him.  
  
Doug looked down at Alexander with a stern gaze. He was having a hard time maintaining the stern part of said gaze, considering the size of the boy’s eyes at that moment. He bent down so that they were face to face. Alex swallowed and took a step back.  
  
“You do realize that taking items from the store without paying for them is against the law do you not?”  
  
Alex remained silent, still staring at the deputy, the cookies clutched tightly to his chest.  
  
“You would never do anything illegal now would you, Alexander?”  
  
Finally Alex managed to shake his head.  
  
“Do you also know that it is not right to run away from your mother in the store? You might make her feel scared. May I have the cookies please?”  
  
Alex handed them over slowly, giving them one last look of longing before letting go. Doug pointed over his shoulder and he turned, finding his mother storming down the aisle toward him and he started to cry. She scooped him up, bringing him to her shoulder and giving him a good strong pat on the butt.  
  
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, young man,” she said hugging him tightly. She looked at Doug appreciatively and he smiled in return. “He’s been a bit of a pill since D-a-d left. I’m sorry, thanks for stopping him.”  
  
“Anytime. I’m here to serve and protect,” he stated with a wave of his hand and a wide smile.  
  
Bessie nodded as he started to turn away. “Doug?” she called out, stopping him and he turned back, brows raised in question. “Pacey is at my house; he fell asleep fixing my furnace, what’s up with that?”  
  
Doug sighed. “You want to grab a quick cup of coffee?” he asked. “I’ll fill you in on the details.”  
  
“Sure, just let me buy my groceries.” She turned and looked behind her. “I don’t remember where I left my cart.”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
When Pacey awoke, the sun had almost disappeared over the horizon. He stretched languidly, and snuggled down into the pillow, unwilling to be pulled from the comfort he’d found there, until he realized that something wasn’t right. Doug’s couch wasn’t this comfortable. He opened his eyes and looked around disconcertedly, not knowing where he was, noticing it was dark outside and worrying that he was late for work.  
  
He got out of bed quickly, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, trying to wake himself up. He looked around the room, recognition dawning as he remembered the events of earlier that day. He hurried out the door and down the hall in search of a clock; hearing voices in the dining room, he headed in that direction.  
  
“Hey there sleepy head, you want some pizza?” Bessie asked as he entered the room, looking around. She was seated at the head of the table, which was surrounded by all the people who seemed determined to butt into his life. He groaned and sat down in an empty chair.  
  
“What’s going on here?” he asked, looking them over them suspiciously, his gaze coming to rest on Doug.  
  
“We were talking about you,” Doug said, and Pacey groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. “I’m getting really tired of you sleeping on my couch. Your feet smell, and I haven’t been able to listen to my own CDs since you moved back in,” Doug said, taking a bite of pizza. “Besides you never did cook for me as promised.”  
  
“Yes I did,” Pacey said tiredly.  
  
“Well, you don’t anymore,” Doug said keeping his voice as even as possible.  
  
Seeing the dark look Pacey was giving Doug, Bessie decided to jump in. “So, I had an idea. I need someone around here who can do handy work, someone to cook breakfast, and someone who could help with Alexander. I was thinking you would be a good choice. In exchange for said services, I could pay you a fair wage as well as free room and board.”  
  
Pacey just looked at her, taking in what she had said. “I couldn’t accept such a big favor from you Bess.”  
  
“It’s not a favor Pace, without Bodie here, I need help! I would be paying more to have live-in help, plus outside workers for all the small maintenance jobs, then I would to have you here, and I’d feel better if it were you anyway, because I know you and I trust you,” she said, having no idea of the effect her words were having on the person she was addressing.   
  
She trusted him. He swallowed, slowly looking around at the other faces, Sophie and Graham, Frank, Paul, Jewel and Glory. He turned his gaze back to Sophie and she smiled at him.   
  
“Why are you here?”   
  
“Moral support,” she said with a shrug.  
  
“For Bessie? I don’t think she needs it.”  
  
“No, for you, in case you wanted to tell them all to stuff it, then I would be on your side.”  
  
“Really?” he asked, looking at her skeptically. “Why?”  
  
“Because then you’ll like me best.”   
  
He laughed shaking his head. “And you?” he addressed the guys.   
  
Frank stopped mid-chew. “Bessie offered pizza,” he supplied by way of an answer.  
  
Graham laughed, “We’re here to help you move.”  
  
“We brought over all your stuff from Doug’s,” Paul added helpfully.  
  
“Oh, I see. You throwing me out, Dougie?” he asked, turning back to his brother, but his look was no longer dark as he did so.  
  
“Damn straight,” Doug said, but his smile was gentle, and Pacey realized the bluff.  
  
“Are you sure straight is a word you should be throwing around?” he asked, a slight smile playing unexpectedly over his lips.  
  
“Ah, Pacey, same dry material, just never gets old,” he rebutted caustically, with a shake of his head and a dry laugh. Silently, he was glad to hear the joke escape his brother’s lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made any kind of joke; if the first one had to be an attack on his sexuality, so be it.  
  
“Well, I’d say I should go home and get ready for work, but I guess I’m there already,” he said, his voice gruff. Placing his palms on the table, he started to push back. He paused in the motion, looking at the tabletop, unsure of what he was feeling. The huge rush of relief, the support of the people in his life was a feeling so foreign, that he felt uncomfortable in their presence. He felt an asphyxiatingly desperate need to get the hell out of there. Away from them.   
  
And out of this house.  
  
He sighed and pushed back, his hands shaking slightly. “So, I’m gonna go get ready for work. Do I have soap? Shaving cream?” He looked at his ‘movers’ for an answer but it was Sophie who gave it.  
  
“There is a bag in the bathroom for you already.”  
  
“Ok.” He took a couple of steps backwards, unsure of what to say. Wanting to say ‘thank you’ but feeling awkward about the words, not sure if he was thankful. He managed it anyway. “Ok, Thanks guys, I um… thanks.” With that, he left the room, striding down the hall to the bathroom,


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 

 _Well now read me a bedtime story_ _  
 _And be sure that it's nice and sweet_  
 _Cos I don't think I can take any more reality…__  
  
Ordinary Life, Semisonic  
  
  
  
Pacey stopped for a moment, looking up at the imposing brick building before him, taking in its sheer size and effective dominance over the surrounding buildings. He climbed the steps and strode inside, looking around for some sign of where he was supposed to go. He spotted an office with the name he was given painted on the door and so he chose it, giving a swift couple of knocks before stepping back to wait for a response. He didn’t have to wait long.  
  
A dark haired woman poked her head out of the door and looked around, her blue eyes falling on him and bringing a smile to her face. She stepped out fully and offered her hand. “Hi, you must be Pacey?”  
  
“That’d be me,” he said with a smile accepting the offered hand with a firm but gentle shake.   
  
“I’m Sheila. I’ve heard a lot about you.”  
  
“Well, depending on what you’ve heard, it’s either all true or complete lies, I can’t really be sure.”  
  
“Sophie Carter?”  
  
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Mmm, could go either way,” she laughed softly and gestured for him to come into the office.  
  
“She mentioned you were looking for ways to give back to the community.”  
  
“Well, give back might be a bit strong, since I can’t remember this particular community ever giving to me, but I would like to help people, if I could.”  
  
“That sounds just fine to me,” she said with a broad smile. “You have any experience with children?”  
  
He scratched the side of his head a moment in thought. “Well, I’ve spent more than enough time with my nieces and nephews, I currently spend my days helping watch a particularly adventurous five-year-old, along with my other duties at the B &B.”  
  
“Ok, Pacey, now I see here that you worked with the mentoring program before?”  
  
“Yeah, with Buzz, I actually kind of miss that kid; I guess his mom got a great job down in Providence?”  
  
“Well, I can’t give you any details, but last I heard Buzz was doing well. He’s playing on a junior hockey team.”  
  
“Really? That’s cool.”  
  
“So, is that what you want to do again?”  
  
“Um…” he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “That’s probably not a good idea, not that I wouldn’t love to do it,” he rushed, “But I… I don’t know if Sophie mentioned this, but I’m involved in a pending legal prosecution, and, it’s pretty serious, I might not be around. I’m not sure what the legal issues would be, and I don’t want to put a kid through that. But anything else, I’ll do party wagon, or clean up, I can do minor maintenance, I… um… I can cook,” he rambled off, not really looking her in the eye.  
  
“Sophie told me about your situation, and I appreciate you thinking about the kids in the long term. Could you answer a question for me, Pacey?” he nodded solemnly, “Why do you want to volunteer here?”   
  
Pacey shifted again. “I just, I need to do something. I don’t know really. My lawyer, Meggie Albrecht, she wanted me to start a while ago, but I’ve been working. I didn’t have time.”   
  
“And now?” she asked her voice like warm water over aching muscles. He could understand why she was good at this job.  
  
“Now?” he repeated softly, looking down at his hands, thinking over his response. “I have too much time.”  
  
She looked over her calendar quickly and smiled. “I already have something you could help with.” He sat forward attentively. “How about helping out with our Thanksgiving?”  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Why are we doing this again?”  
  
“It’s Dougie’s birthday.”  
  
“Doug’s birthday is Saturday.”  
  
“But Saturday isn’t Karaoke night!”  
  
Pacey groaned, “I’m logging an official complaint.”  
  
“Duly noted,” Glory retorted before she disappeared into her office.   
  
“Pacey are you complaining about Karaoke again?” Jewel called out carrying another banner that dragged at length behind her. “I think you’d feel a lot better if you would just sing.”  
  
“Ha, ha, Blondie, not gonna happen,” He tugged on a strand of golden hair as she passed by him, the banner still trailing. “How are you going to put that up there?”  
  
“It won’t be difficult,” she said pulling a chair over and looking for the right position to place it in.  
  
“You have six arms you’ve been hiding from me? Because if so, I can think of some far more interesting ways to try them out.”  
  
She stuck her tongue out and he laughed. “C’mon, it’s not that big,” she pouted, her bottom lip sticking out and it was impossible not to notice just how full those amazing lips of hers were. He decided to focus on her eyes. Though equally large and amazing, they were a little less torturous to look at. She cocked her hip and blew a stray ringlet out of her face as she looked down at her streamer. For some reason, at that moment, he remembered just how long it had been since he’d had sex. He shook his head and quickly cleared his throat.  
  
“Oh, I beg to differ.” He picked up the opposite end of the banner, holding it up above his head and finding it still touched the floor in between them. “There’s enough paper here to carpet a small, European country.”  
  
“It is sorta big.”  
  
“It’s enormous.”  
  
“I guess I got a little carried away. It’s just so hard to decide what to use. Stencils, or paints or stamps.”  
  
“Uh huh.” He was laughing at her.  
  
She threw a napkin from the nearby table at him and he laughed harder. “Well, then smart ass, what do you suggest?” she finally demanded.  
  
His eyes widened and his dark eyebrows went up in mock surprise. “If that’s your way of asking for my help, you’re gonna find yourself out of luck.”  
  
“Oh, I see,” she said setting the banner down and stepping closer to him. “Well then maybe if I ask nicely, you’ll be willing to help me out.” She stepped even closer and ran the tip of her finger over his throat and along the neckline of his t-shirt, then up over his shoulder and down his arm, trailing it over bulge of his bicep where his shirt sleeve ended. She dipped her head, jutted out that enticing lower lip and looked at him pleadingly with her large hazel eyes. They were the wrong hazel to work on him properly, a riotous mix of gold and green, not a subtle blending of blue-gray and golden brown, but he smiled wickedly despite his traitorous thoughts and reached for her, ready to make some lewd comment when the sound of a throat clearing nearby interrupted them.  
  
Jewel went completely white and stepped away from Pacey. He stood and gave her a reassuring pat on the arm as he turned to find Trey looking at them, his green eyes darkening at the sight of that contact. He barely withheld the verbal vomit he wanted to spew at the guy as he walked away.   
  
“I’ll go see if I can find the staple gun so we can hang the banner,” he said giving her a smile.  
  
He started slamming things around the moment he entered the kitchen.  
  
“Don’t take it out on my glasses, they are expensive,” Glory said from the dark recesses of the pantry. She stepped out and peeked into the other room. “Trey is here, I see; I thought he wasn’t coming.”  
  
“No such luck,” Pacey said bending down to take a peek out himself, seeing the couple locked in quiet confrontation. No screaming or wild hand gestures, just tensed bodies and sad frustrated faces.  
  
“I wish he would just get over himself already. Every time he does this, he breaks her heart another time. It’s not what she needs.”  
  
“Explain this to me. Why? I don’t think I will ever understand why women keep going back to men like that.”  
  
“Are you getting a thing for Jewel?”  
  
“What? No.”  
  
“You just want to sleep with her.”  
  
“No!” he said, then qualified, “Well… maybe in the most basic way that any red-blooded male, like myself, would want to sleep with a woman that hot, especially when the possibility of prison is looming over his head,” he threw in along with a dramatic wave of his hand, “But not on any kind of level where it could possibly become reality, I’m way too much of a screw up.”  
  
“Don’t say that, you’re not a screw up. You’re one of the best workers I’ve ever had here.”  
  
He sighed, knowing she was wrong, and ignored the last bit. “It was just meaningless flirting and I suppose he’ll take it wrong. Not that he has the right to.” He looked out at them again and saw the hard set of Jewel’s jaw line and finding it familiar. “I just don’t like to see her hurt.”  
  
“She loves him.”  
  
Pacey snorted.  
  
“He loves her too, he’s just scared. He had a really tragic previous relationship of his own, and it’s taking him longer to reach the place where he can trust someone again than it took for Jewel, and that’s basically the source of all their conflict.”  
  
“Seems like everyone is afraid these days,” Pacey said. “Doesn’t anyone just grab the bull by the horns and go for it any more?”   
  
She shrugged in response. “I’m gonna go out back and have a smoke.”  
  
“Don’t you think you should quit that?”  
  
She just smiled at him. “I’ll be right back.” She moved to the back door that opened out to the alley. “Could you help Jewel with the banner when she is finished with her emotional crisis?”  
  
“I already planned on it.” He watched as she propped open the back door with her body, standing half in, half out, and then taking a long drag off her cigarette. He thought it was strange that she didn’t just smoke inside, it was a bar after all, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. She smoked so rarely, he couldn’t help but wonder why she was doing so now, if maybe she was upset about something. He turned away, deciding that even to him, women were an unsolvable mystery. Not that he was complaining about that either, he kind of liked them that way.  
  
He heard Jewel shout her goodbye to Trey and he ducked his head to peek out again, and watched as she angrily messed with the banner until finally she hunched over, letting it fall to the floor, her shoulders trembling as she began to cry.  
  
Pacey hurried out to her with long strides, pulling her into his arms, and letting her cry against his chest.  
  
  
  
He’d just sent Jewel off to fix her makeup, pulled on another t-shirt (one without tear stains all over the front of it) and was attempting to hang “The Banner That Ate Manhattan”, when Jake Barns strode through the door with the Karaoke machine. He held up a hand full of disks and waved them around like a flag on Independence Day.  
  
Glory hurried into the room and looked at him expectantly, while shoving a piece of gum into her mouth.  
  
“I’ve got them all, Barbra, Celine, Mariah, Whitney, you name it. As well as some classics like Aretha and Donna, and if you can take it, the diva of all Divas, Ella Fitzgerald.”  
  
Glory took up the Ella Fitzgerald with a look of child like glee. “Yes! Thank you, Jake you are a god!” She leaned in and kissed him and the young man’s face flushed a deep crimson.  
  
Pacey lifted one of the disks and grimaced at the overly made-up woman on the cover. “What are these?”  
  
“The disks for Karaoke.”  
  
“What? We’re doing Diva Karaoke?” he demanded his voice pitching up. “Please tell me you’re joking.”  
  
“You say that to me a lot.”  
  
“That’s because you are clearly deranged.”  
  
“Pace, this is Doug’s birthday. When it’s your birthday we’ll do Zeppelin, ok, but for Dougie we do Diva’s.”  
  
“No one can possibly survive this. Not only are you suggesting people listen to this torture device disguised as music, but you are going to subject us all to complete amateurs attempting to sing it?” he cracked.   
  
“Exactly,” Glory tossed back over her shoulder as she moved behind the bar.  
  
“It’s a health hazard,” he said, following after her. “It’s just like hell, only worse.”  
  
“Oh, poor baby.” She turned and squeezed his cheeks receiving a death glare in return. “What can I do to make it up to you?” she asked with a wide grin that displayed two rows of pearly white teeth, framed by full red tinted lips, laughter dancing in the depths of her eyes. He grinned wickedly back at her.   
  
“I could think of something.”  
  
She shook her head and laughed. “You’re incorrigible.” He chuckled as she walked away still shaking her head, but he didn’t fail to notice that she looked back at him over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.  
  
Soon, the place was filled to the rafters with people, eating, talking drinking and singing god-awful Karaoke. Pacey was hiding in the kitchen with a smuggled beer, watching Emeril Live on the TV.  
  
“That looks delicious,” Bessie said from behind him and he turned around with a guilty look.  
  
“I was just…” he gestured toward the screen where Emeril was enthusiastically shaking the excess water from a strainer filled with curly pasta, his brain searching for something to say.  
  
“This show always makes me hungry,” she said keeping her eyes on the screen a moment before turning her gaze to him. “Your dad didn’t show, and your mom just left.”  
  
“For your information, I was hiding from the Karaoke.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Pacey sighed and bent down to peek out into the other room. “Pop didn’t come huh?”  
  
“No, but apparently your mother brought chipped beef on toast. Doug seemed thrilled,” she said her face twisting into a mix of disgust and consternation. Pacey smirked. She felt encouraged. “Go in there and be with your friends.” She demanded.  
  
“Ok, ok. God, who knew when I moved in with you that you’d suddenly turn into General Patton?”  
  
“Very funny, Pace,” she said, placing a hand on her jutted hip. “Besides how do you think Joey got to be so neurotic in the first place?”  
  
He flinched. He knew he flinched and he hoped to God that Bessie hadn’t noticed; he worked at keeping his voice light for cover. “Ahh. That explains it then.”  
  
“Just shut up and come on.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him out to the main room, where all the partygoers were gathered around Doug and a large cake topped with enough candles to have the fire Marshall down on them in a heartbeat.   
  
Pacey had to admit he was surprised by the number and age range of the guests. Who knew Doug played flag football with the teens down at the community center? He came up behind his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Hey, no one told me there was going to be a bonfire at this party, I’d have brought marshmallows.”  
  
“My brother, the comedian.” Doug said flatly, but his smile was a mile wide as he looked over the faces of his friends and the daunting task before him. He took a deep breath and blew moving over the candles row by row, in a very methodic, organized and Doug-like attack until each one was out and he was gasping for breath.  
  
“Oh my God! I lost the bet.” Sophie said, turning around and handing her husband a fiver.  
  
“I could’ve told you he’d get them all.” Pacey said, “I’ve known him my whole life, and he is definitely full of hot air.”  
  
“And once again, you slay me with your humor. At least my sex life seems to be off the list of this evening’s hit list.”  
  
“What sex life, Dougie, if you want me to comment on it, you have to at least have one.” His comment garnered a moan from the crowd, followed by laughter and Doug gave Pacey a look of death that had zero effect.  
  
After humiliating his brother in what he considered a fantastic display of true brotherly love with a few more jokes, Pacey made his way through the crowd, instinctively making sure everyone had what they needed, seeing many familiar faces and some unfamiliar ones as well. He greeted each person, charmed them to their toes, and thanked them for coming. It was the least he could do since he couldn’t afford to give Doug a present he could at least make sure the party was successful.   
  
He eventually turned his attention to the karaoke and started to realize that though the music still sucked, watching people he knew make fools of themselves on stage could be extraordinarily fun. Before long, he was rolling with laughter like everyone else, cheering on the performers. He turned and spotted Doug sitting alone at his table, laughing. He headed in that direction, taking a seat across from him and smiling.  
  
“Happy birthday, Dougie.”  
  
“Thanks, Pace.”  
  
“No hard feelings?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, about the ribbing? Nah,” he said turning his attention back to Graham on stage making a complete fool of himself singing Mariah Carey’s “Without You”. “It wouldn’t be a birthday without your smart ass commentary. At least these days it’s not pointed.”  
  
“True, true. Things have changed.”  
  
“Except the gay jokes, which just keep getting older by the way.”  
  
Pacey shrugged. “That just makes them all the more safe.”  
  
Doug looked at his brother through his lashes. “Yeah, I guess so.” He added as the strains of music from Graham’s song faded away.  
  
The performance came to an end and he took a flamboyant bow, followed by a ‘queenish’ curtsy and every one laughed. Pacey had to hold his stomach and Doug had to hold onto the table to remain in his chair when Sophie hollered that she wanted a “piece of that” and started sticking dollar bills in his waistband.  
  
“Hey, this ain’t that kind of establishment, Lady,” Glory said, coming up to take the microphone. Sophie stuck out her tongue at her. “Now, apparently it’s my turn to humiliate myself,” Glory said with a laugh, “And even though it’s Douglas’ birthday, I’m going to dedicate this song to the other Witter, because he has a nice smile, and I’d like to see more of it.” After her short speech, she started to sing with Ella Fitzgerald’s version of “Accentuate the Positive”.   
  
Pacey chuckled slightly. It was the same thing she had been saying to him on the mornings she stalked him to breakfast. She’d eat with him, chatting him up the whole time, eating more food than was right for such a skinny person, trying to make him laugh, and talking about life in general. In spite of the fact that he enjoyed her company, he was still having a hard time finding any positive to accentuate though. Except maybe the nice view. She wasn’t the world’s greatest singer, but she made a very nice picture dancing around on stage with those long legs of hers. The thought made him grin.  
  
“What are you thinking about over there, little bro?” Doug asked and Pacey turned to find a knowing smirk on his brother’s face. Pacey just shook his head, and then he looked at Doug seriously.  
  
“So, you and Glory. Anything goin’ on there?” he asked, still watching the performance.  
  
“Going on? Like what?”  
  
“Come on, Doug, I’m not a complete idiot. There is definitely a connection of some kind between you two.”  
  
“You think so?” Doug looked up at the stage. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”  
  
“You two dated?”  
  
Doug shook his head.  
  
“Sleep together in a night of impulsive craziness?”  
  
Doug laughed, “No.”  
  
“So what’s going on? You secretly pining after her?”  
  
“Why do you want to know?” Doug asked, arcing a dark eyebrow, trying not to smile.  
  
Pacey jutted out his bottom lip, shrugged, and shook his head simultaneously. “No reason. Just the curiosity of a concerned brother.”  
  
“Mmm hmm,” Doug responded. He paused first, thoughtfully, and then continued. “Do you remember how I was stationed for a year in Boston after completing the academy?”  
  
“Of course, best year of my life.” Pacey quipped, taking a sip of his drink and putting his feet up on the chair in front of him.  
  
“Ye-ah. Well, anyhow, I ended up sharing an apartment with Glory’s brother, Cameron, and since I didn’t have any family in Boston, I ended up spending a lot of time with his family. That’s how I got to know Glory.”   
  
“Ok, but that doesn’t really explain the ‘vibe’.”  
  
“The vibe?” Doug repeated slowly, his eyes focused on Glory. He remembered for a moment when she and Cameron had done an Ella Fitzgerald / Louis Armstrong duet at the karaoke club just down the street from the apartment, and that Glory and Cameron had the exact same beautiful, honey colored eyes. “Cameron was killed just a few weeks before I was transferred back to Capeside.”  
  
The smile left Pacey’s face, and he looked over at Doug with concern. “Wow, I’m sorry. He was a good friend?”  
  
Doug paused for a long time, his focus on his glass of beer as he twirled the amber liquid around inside. “Yeah, he was. The three of us hung out constantly. I was twenty-three, out on my own for the first time. We got… close.   
  
Glory and I hadn’t seen each other since the funeral when she showed up here in Capeside.”  
  
“I see,” Pacey said slowly, not sure that he did.  
  
“So there you go, mystery solved.” Pacey nodded and turned back just as Glory finished her song and took a bow. “She is beautiful though isn’t she?”  
  
“All women are beautiful, Doug, that’s the nature of woman,” Pacey said with a smile.  
  
Doug shook his head with an incredulous grin. “God, you really are something else, you know that?”  
  
Pacey just smiled. There was a lull in the conversation, another performance, before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about Pop. I know he didn’t come because of me.”  
  
“No, you’re not the reason Pop didn’t come. This thing between Pop and I has been coming for a while now. What happened with you was just a catalyst.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Doug laughed, and shook his head. He looked around the room as he reflexively ran his tongue over the corner of his mouth. When he spoke, his voice sounded tired and resigned. “Look at my life. The only thing I can truly say that I am proud of, is being a cop, but… damn it. I’m turning 30 in two days, and I feel like my life is leaving me behind. There’s so much that… well there are things I want to do, and I’ve let Pop dictate that to me for so long.”  
  
Pacey frowned. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Doug…you can talk to me,” Pacey said, furrowing his brow, revealing his genuine worry for this man who only recently had truly become his brother. “I’m the last person who is going to judge you.”  
  
Doug sighed, “Are you ever afraid, that the one person you were meant to love has already passed you by, that it’s too late to say what you should’ve said, or to do what you should’ve done, and now, no matter what, you are destined to spend the rest of your life alone? Alone with that weight resting on you?”  
  
Pacey almost laughed as he looked at his brother, and he would have if not for the serious expression on his face. Do I ever feel that? Pacey ran a hand over his freshly cut hair.  
  
“Every damn day.”   
  
His response was to Doug as well as himself, and Doug drew back, looking thoughtfully at Pacey, his gaze intent, as if seeing for the first time something that had been there all along.  
  
“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “Something like that.”  
  
Pacey nodded, still looking at his brother, but remaining silent, even as his mind asked a thousand questions.   
  
Doug probably didn’t want to talk about it any more than he did.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Pacey lifted the lid to the large garbage can located in the alley behind the bar and hefted the heavy sack into it. He sighed, his body weary from the extra hours he’d put in for the last two days.  
  
Glory had gone down to Providence for something, and that left Jewel in charge of the bar, and she was closing along with another waitress both nights. The usual bouncer was out with the flu, and Pacey hadn’t felt quite right about leaving two women alone.   
  
He was just closing the lid on the dumpster, not wanting to let it crash down so late at night, when a strange sounding giggle from behind him captured his attention and he turned around.  
  
Three men were standing there, looking disreputable and untrustworthy and he was reminded once again that even small towns weren’t completely without this element. The difference was, he actually thought he recognized one of these guys.  
  
“Hey,” the one he recognized called out. “Didn’t I go to school with you?”  
  
Pacey narrowed his eyes, looking the man over. “Can I help you?” he asked but his voice lacked any hint of courtesy.  


“Yeah, you could give us your wallet.” They made the request but didn’t wait for a response. Two of the men grabbed his arms, yanking him forward and dragging him to his knees while the one who had spoken stepped forward and lifted his leg in a fluid motion, busting Pacey in the chin with his knee and causing his head to snap back. They tossed him to the ground and he managed to keep from hitting his head on the gravel, catching himself with his hands before bringing one instinctively to check his lip. He tasted blood, and found his tongue was bleeding because he’d bit it. It was only a moment before they were on him again, and though he fought hard, got off a couple of good blows of his own, four to one was a bit more than he could handle. It was the gunshot fired in the air that finally brought an end to the sharp kicks in the ribs.  
  
Everyone drew back, turning to see what had brought on the noise and Pacey looked between the figures standing over him, everything seeming like the slow motion playback in a football game, to see Jewel standing at the door with Glory’s shotgun in her hand, aimed at one of the criminals. He knew they kept the gun hidden behind the bar, but as far as he knew, it had never been used.  
  
He looked at her intently, willing her with his mind to go back inside and call the police. Had she done that already? He wanted to tell her to leave, but didn’t want to distract her from the men who were edging toward her slowly, knowing they would take the first opportunity to take her.  
  
His silence was useless, however, because her gaze slid to him sprawled out in the alley, and he knew he was a sight, he could already feel his left eye swelling shut and he knew his lip was bleeding. Her eyes registered shock and fear, and the moment her attention had been fully drawn away, the bastard that had kneed him snatched the gun out of her hand and backed her up against the dumpster, holding the shotgun to her neck.  
  
“Let her go,” Pacey said, knowing full well he had no room to negotiate, but unable to stop the words from firing out of his mouth. The other man just laughed, stepped in closer to Jewel, and licked her face. She closed her eyes and turned away.  
  
“Does this belong to you?” he asked, “Because your wallet was pitifully empty, and I was really hoping to score big off you tonight. I might just have to make do with this.” He was feeling cocky, obviously because he turned to smile and mock Pacey and missed the look that crossed Jewel’s face; when he turned back, she spit in his face and brought her knee up hard between his legs, sending him into a ball on the ground as he cried out in pain. She darted for the alley opening, but the other men were quick, one of them grabbing her from behind.  
  
Pacey scrambled to his feet in an unexpected burst of adrenaline, tearing the man away from her and getting in a couple of good punches before the others stopped him, holding him while the leader, sent the shotgun into his stomach. Pacey bent forward with the impact, coughing and gasping for air, almost falling, but catching himself. He stood, stumbling back for a moment, hearing them laugh as the other man pulled Jewel in front of him. He grabbed her breast roughly and then turned her head so he could lick her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, causing a tear to escape, as he placed the blade of his knife to her throat. Pacey froze, not knowing what to do next, knowing they were whipped and hating every second of it.   
  
Pacey’s gaze slid to Jewel’s, her gold-green eyes wide with fear, as the knife pressed closer, sending a trickle of blood running down her neck. Pacey flexed his jaw, his glare darkening even further at that sight, helplessness a desperate animal, clawing at his gut from within. His eyes locked on hers; trying to give her comfort and hope he didn’t have to give.  
  
A loud click broke the silence, the unmistakable sound of a pistol cocking, startling the attacker. “Drop your weapon and step away from the girl, asswipe.” Pacey’s eyes slid shut, the familiar tones and rhythm of that deep gruff voice washing through him, bringing relief like water to a man in the desert. He never thought he’d feel that way at the sound of that voice. “NOW!” it demanded again when the perpetrator didn’t move fast enough for his taste, and Pacey opened his eyes and found himself looking into the cool blue depths of his father’s.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“What on earth were you thinking?” John yelled, ignoring the looks of the nurses who glared at him.  
  
“Dad, those guys attacked me!” Pacey said, raising his voice to match. He moved to stand, but was stopped by Doug’s hand on his shoulder, holding him still for the intern, who was trying to stitch his eyebrow closed.  
  
“Pop, stop yelling at him.”  
  
“Of course they attacked you. Not long ago, you were driving a Beemer around town, flaunting your money like a big hot shot.”  
  
“Pop…” Doug said, trying to break in.  
  
“You stay out of this smart ass, I’ve heard enough out of you where he is concerned.” He turned back to Pacey. “You should know better.”  
  
“I was taking out the trash!” Pacey said, removing the ice pack from his lip long enough to shout.  
  
“Did you look around for suspicious characters? Did you look around at all or did you just walk out into a dark alley without a second thought?”  
  
Pacey clenched his jaw and glared at his father, ignoring the sharp pain the action brought, knowing the bastard was right, this was his fault. He hadn’t looked around and because of that he hadn’t just endangered himself, but Jewel as well.  
  
“Pacey, I need you to relax your face,” the intern spoke as calmly as possible as his furrowed brow tore one of her unfinished stitches, sending a fresh stream of blood to trickle down the side of his face.  
  
“Dad I think you should leave, you’re not helping.” Doug insisted.   
  
“I’m not leaving until I know that my son is ok!”   
  
Pacey laughed. At first in was a short burst that came from nowhere, then it was a full and unhindered laugh as he rocked back on the gurney, once again pulling away from the poor woman who was trying desperately to stitch him up.  
  
“Mr. Witter!” she cried.  
  
“What?” all three of them responded in varying tones of voice and she looked around in bewilderment at them.  
  
“I like that,” Pacey said, jumping right back to his father’s statement. “How convenient that tonight, I am your son! I haven’t even seen you in over two months.” He stood, his eyebrow still bleeding and snatched his torn and dirty jacket from where it had sat behind him. “Fuck you, Sheriff Witter,” he said coldly, and stormed out of the room.  
  
“Great Pop, you handled that with your usual flair and dignity.” Doug snapped.  
  
“I though I told you to stay out of this, Douglas.”  
  
“You know what Pop, you’re right,” Doug said, holding up his hands in surrender as he followed his brother out.  
  
Pacey grabbed the closest nurse and asked for Jewel, and then followed meekly after her as she lead the way to another curtained off area of the ER.  
  
“Hey,” he said, finding her sitting on the edge of the cot, her face deathly pale.  
  
“Hey,” she said back so softly, he wouldn’t have caught it if her lips hadn’t been moving.  
  
“Are you Okay?”  
  
She started to nod, but then began shaking her head as she grabbed up the bedpan beside her and threw up. He hurried to her side, pulling her hair back, careful not to disturb the bandage on her neck. He waited for her to finish, rubbing soft circles over her back. When she finally sat up straight, he handed her the glass of water that was waiting on the table nearby.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he said, softly shaking his head while he continued to rub her back.  
  
She looked up at him and frowned. “Why are you sorry?”  
  
“I should’ve been paying more attention. Maybe I would’ve seen those guys and none of this would’ve happened.”  
  
“Maybe? A stupid ‘maybe’ Pacey, that’s why you’re sorry? It could’ve happened to anybody. It is not your fault some assholes decided to jump you in the alley. It could’ve been someone from the restaurant on the other side. It could’ve been anyone,” she added softly.  
  
He sighed. “It seems like no matter what I do, I screw up.”  
  
“You didn’t screw up, you saved me!”  
  
He almost laughed at that. “How did I save you? You called the cops, fired the shotgun to stop them from kicking my ass, then when he had you against the dumpster, you put serious hurt on a couple of his most valuable assets. I really don’t see what part of that I helped with, except to be the reason you were out there in the first place.”  
  
“You wouldn’t let me take out the garbage.”   
  
He remembered then, seeing Jewel, her hand on the door, ready to open it. He had stopped her and sent her out to finish cleaning the bar, and taken it out himself.  
  
“Who knows what they could’ve gotten away with before you realized, like I did, that it didn’t take that long to take out the trash.” Pacey just closed his eyes, remembering that knife at her throat. He didn’t want to think about it. “Pacey you’re still bleeding. They only stitched you up halfway?”  
  
He touched his head and felt the blood there. “Yeah, I guess I should let them finish, huh?”  
  
“Jewel!” hollered a flying rush of color that dashed into the room and wrapped itself around Jewel, almost knocking Pacey off the bed.   
  
“Oh my God. Are you all right? What happened?” Trey was demanding, along with a million other questions that no one had time to answer. ‘Are you alright’, was repeated in the list several times, Trey repeatedly checking her face, looking her over, peppering her face with soft kisses, and Pacey quietly left the room.  
  
Once he was back out in the hall, he ran into Doug and sighed. “What?” he asked when he saw the look on his brother’s face.  
  
“You are one lucky bastard, you know that?”  
  
“You call this lucky?”  
  
“Considering that last week they killed a guy?” he responded showing Pacey the paper he’d just received from one of the other deputies. “I guess it all depends on what you consider lucky.”  
  
Pacey was quiet as he and Doug walked back to the cubical they had been in earlier. He looked around carefully, looking for his father before entering. “Well, at least I got to have a nice conversation with Pop,” he said sardonically as he sat and waited for Doug to fetch another intern to stitch him up.  
  


  
~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Pacey quietly stole in through the kitchen door of the Potter B&B, guided only by the predawn light and his ever-present memory of its layout. He limped softly through the familiar room and down the hallway to his door and slipped inside. He moved to the closet, and opening it, tossed his ruined jacket onto the floor. He reached up to the top shelf for a clean towel, cursing softly under his breath at the pull in his bruised ribs. He managed to pull down what he needed, then leaned a shoulder against the wall to support himself as he caught his breath. The pain in his ribs, the pain everywhere, was still sharp and fresh. He let his head fall to the side, relaxing against that wall, and found himself looking at the wallpaper. The thick blue stripes had a raised floral pattern and he ran a thick fingertip over the surface, tracing the stripe and feeling the little bumps and ridges change under his touch.  
  
  
  
“What is this? This is the ugliest wallpaper I have ever seen.”  
  
“Really? Because I seem to remember you making a similar comment about a black striped one with the big red cherries.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Ok, maybe it’s not the ugliest, but it definitely gives off an old lady vibe.”  
  
“Well, it’s a bed and breakfast, Potter. It’s supposed to be quaint.”  
  
“There is a difference between quaint and geriatric, Pace.”  
  
“Yeah, well beggars can’t be choosers.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard this speech before; just don’t accidentally paper yourself to the wall, because I’ll most likely leave you there. I’m sure the old people who will choose this room won’t even notice the smell.”  
  
  
  
He laughed softly to himself, alone in his room, and then stopped because it hurt. He grabbed the clothes he needed for the day, knowing that after his shower; he needed to start breakfast for the guests. He moved down the hall to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.  
  
He bit back a groan and he bent down to untie his shoes and pull off his jeans, the rough material of the pants brushing over a darkening bruise on his hip. He pulled his t-shirt off over his head, once again sending pain shooting through his rib cage.  
  
Once he was undressed, he leaned against the sink to catch his breath and wait for the water to heat up, and when the room had filled with steam, he climbed into the tub and under the heated spray.  
  
He bit the inside of his lower lip and kept from moaning as the water sluiced over sore, tense muscles. The water was painfully soothing as it sluiced over his neck and across his shoulders, running down his chest, over his scrapes and bruises, down his abdomen and thighs.   
  
The powerful spray massaged his skin as it rushed over his back, washing away the tension in his body along with the blood as it journeyed over his ass, down his legs and ankles trailing along the tub to disappear down the drain.  
  
He stretched out his arms, bracing his hands on the wall as he relaxed into the stance. One knee bent, head down, sending the water running over it and down his face. He looked up at his hands; one knuckle had started bleeding again and the blood, mixing with the water, ran down and dripped off his wrist, but he didn’t really see it.  
  
He looked forward and no longer saw the pristine white of the shower stall in front of him, but instead he was looking into his memory.  
  
For a moment, Joey was standing before him, naked and wet, droplets of water dotting her face and dripping from her long hair, a riot of black strands plastered to her face and shoulders. Her breasts were partially concealed by the long tresses, but the rosy tips peeked through the strands, taut with the cold air as his form deprived her of the hot water behind him.  
  
She was smiling, laughing actually at something he’d said as she rubbed the soap between her hands creating a mass of bubbles she planned to rub onto his chest and other places.  
  
He leaned into the vision, closing his eyes to it and letting his forehead rest against the cool tiles, reminding him of what reality was.   
  
What was it that brought her back to him at moments like this? Was it because she was gone, and he was so accustomed to her presence in his life that he had to create her. Was it the circumstances? Or, was it this place? First this town, now this house.  
  
He had made love to her in this shower only one time. It had been spontaneous and awkward, and fun. He could remember every second of it as clear as yesterday, how they had laughed and teased each other. He remembered how happy and afraid he’d been at the same time. So in love with her but knowing that it would end, that they couldn’t make it.  
  
He relived it every morning before the sun came up.   
  
He shut off the water and climbed out to start a new day, the sound of her voice still in his ears, softly calling his name.


	10. Chapter 10

  
  
  
_I’m so sick of the tension_ _  
_ _Sick of the hunger_ _  
_ _Sick of you acting like I owe you this_ _  
_ _Find another place to feed your greed_ _  
_ _While I find a place to rest…_  
Place for My Head, Linkin Park  
  
  
  
“I thought you were never going to get here!” Gale cried as Dawson stepped in the front door, just as she was coming down the stairs after settling Lillie down for her nap.  
  
“Well, I had to get here eventually.”  
  
“I missed you so much,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight grip.  
  
Dawson chuckled, “I missed you too, Mom.”  
  
“Are you hungry? I just made some cookies and I’ve started the preparation for all the fanfare.”  
  
“Fanfare? Who all’s coming over?”  
  
“Well, actually just Bessie, Bodie, and Alexander.”  
  
“Bodie is back?” Dawson asked, setting his bag down by the front door.  
  
“No, at least I don’t think so, but he’s here for Thanksgiving.”  
  
“Good, I’d hate to think he had to be apart from them over the holidays.”  
  
“Me too. Now, come on into the kitchen and help me out. I’m still not entirely used to doing this without your father here to taste test.”  
  
“Mom, I need to ask you a favor actually, before we get started,” he said, looking guilty as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “You can be mad at me if you want, but I promise you she is sober and nothing like what happened last time is going to happen again, it’s just that…”  
  
“What are you talking about, Sweetie?”  
  
“I invited Audrey to come down here for Thanksgiving.”  
  
“What?” she asked, her voice becoming serious.   
  
“I know it was presumptuous of me, Mom, but she and her parents are still having… issues, and she’s just not ready to take on a holiday with them. Besides, they opted to go to Italy and I’m pretty sure they didn’t send her a ticket.”  
  
“You’re kidding,” she said, her face softening considerably. “I’ll never understand parents like that.”  
  
“Well, there’s a reason people are driven to drink at such a young age, Mom.  
“I suppose it will be fine to have her here. She behaved herself all summer, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.”  
  
“I’m glad you feel that way, because there she is,” he said, peeking out the door as Audrey opened the screen on the front porch.  
  
“Already?”  
  
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Dawson opened it to find Audrey standing there, wringing her hands. She looked up, surprised at the quick response, then smiled a bright smile before throwing her arms around him.  
  
“Hey you,” he said, realizing he had missed her after a summer of seeing her everyday, and she felt soft and pleasing in his arms.  
  
She pulled back. “Hey there yourself, Handsome. Looks like Hollywood has been treating you decent.”  
  
“I guess you could say that,” he said with a grin. “How has school been treating you?”   
  
“Oh, you know, the usual, too many cute boys to count. And some of them are even smart enough to help me with my homework.” She said with a mile-wide smile. She turned to Gale. “Hi, Mrs. Leery, sorry to crash the party.”  
  
Gale smiled and Dawson saw it was genuine and smiled along with her. “Not a problem, Audrey, Sweetheart. The more the merrier.”  
  
“Thank you, Mrs. Leery, that really means a lot to me. I know that…well the last time you opened your home to me on a holiday, I sort of ruined it. I promise that’s not going to happen again.” Gale smiled and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders, ushering her toward the kitchen.  
  
“I’m not worried. Why don’t you come on in and help me with the dinner?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, I’m useless in one of these,” she said waving her hand about the kitchen.   
  
“It’ll be very simple, I just need you to cut up this onion for me,” Gale said, handing the oblong, yellow bulb to her with a smile.  
  
“No, really, I can’t,” Audrey said, looking at the onion with something akin to panic. “Pacey tried. He tried to teach me how to do the simplest things in the kitchen and to no avail! I am just useless.” She set it down and looked it over warily as she rambled. “And believe me, if sexual favors from that man can’t motivate you to do something, then nothing can, because let me tell you…” She looked up at Gale and suddenly remembered who she was talking to. The older woman was looking at her with wide eyes and an expression that read of possible horror, at the very least. “Soooo, chop the onion! Can’t be that hard now can it? I’ll just give it a try.” Audrey said, blushing furiously as she bent over the task, letting her long flaxen hair fall about her face as a shield. Maybe, while I’m at it, I might slip and cut my own throat, because that’s about how embarrassed I am right now! She thought. I can’t believe I just said that to Dawson’s mother! Well at least I didn’t say it at the dinner table. The last thought made her smile to herself and she decided to focus on the onion, chopping it into tiny little bits until her eyes started to water to the point of zero visibility.  
  
“Here ya go, Mrs. Leery,” she said, sniffing through tears, and handing over a cutting board piled with the obliterated vegetable. Gale looked it over humorously and grinned at Audrey, shaking her head as she scraped the remains into the stuffing she was making.  
  
“Why don’t you go ahead and keep Dawson company?”   
  
“Yeah, why don’t I do that?” Audrey responded and then darted out of the room, leaving a quietly laughing Gale behind her.   
  
Audrey found Dawson on the sofa in the living room watching an old movie in black and white and she scrunched up her nose at it before sitting beside him. “What are you watching?”  
  
“It Happened One Night.”  
  
“God, what is it with these women and the big eyes?”  
  
“You don’t like Claudette Colbert?”  
  
“Who?”  
  
Dawson pointed to the screen. “That is Claudette Colbert, and that is Clark Gable.”  
  
“The guy from ‘Gone with the Wind’?”  
  
“Exactly,” Dawson said with a laugh.  
  
“That still doesn’t explain the eyes.”  
  
Dawson shrugged, “Fashion of the times, I guess.”  
  
Audrey didn’t respond, she just shrugged as well and watched the movie. She listened to Dawson give commentary, telling her about how they had made the movie in four weeks, and how Claudette had complained the entire time, but in the end, had won an Oscar for it.  
  
“Isn’t that how things always work out?” she asked, looking at him intently and smiling without reason. “You think your life is going one way and all of a sudden, ‘Bang!’ curve in the road.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s very true,” Dawson replied, turning and smiling at her, giving a little laugh and suddenly, she realized she wanted to kiss him, really kiss him, and her stomach dropped right out through her feet. She scrambled back from him and got up off the couch. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning at her in confusion.  
  
“Nuthin,” she said, shaking her head. “I just need to go … to my room. I didn’t even get a chance to take my bags upstairs.”  
  
“I already did that for you. You’re in the room next to mine,” he said with a friendly smile that she found entirely too handsome for her own good.  
  
“Well, I need to pick out what I’m going to wear for dinner. Jeez, what’s with the third degree!” and with that she hurried out of the room and up the stairs, collapsing against the door after she slammed it shut behind her, pulling in her lip to chew on it nervously.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“G’bye, Pacey!”  
  
Pacey turned and waved to the ten year-old boy who was standing in the doorway of the Capeside Community/Youth Center, where he had just finished serving Thanksgiving dinner.   
  
“Bye, Dean, I’ll see you on Monday. Okay?”  
  
“Okay!” he yelled and then disappeared inside.   
  
Pacey laughed and shook his head, hopping down the steps one by one and thinking about how much time he had before he was expected at the Carter house for their Thanksgiving dinner. He was happy to have somewhere else to go, when Bessie had asked him. He knew she would be going to the Leery’s and he didn’t want to have to explain why he couldn’t go there. He knew she wouldn’t buy him going home for dinner. Not this year. After everything that had happened, there was no way he was spending the night alone in a room with his parents. He stepped off the last step and looked up, coming to a sudden stop when he spotted a familiar figure standing in front of him on the sidewalk.  
  
“Hey,” Dawson said, his gaze sweeping over Pacey.  
  
Did he imagine that spark of friendliness in Dawson’s eyes?  
  
“Hey,” Pacey said, his smile now gone, replaced with a frown. “What are you doing here Dawson?” he asked, his distrust evident in his voice.  
  
“I just wanted to see how you were,” Dawson said. “How are you?”  
  
“Oh,” he said dragging the word out. “I’m just peachy.” There was an awkward pause. “How did you know to find me here?”  
  
Dawson looked down for a moment; studying the sidewalk, then back up at Pacey. “Bessie was over at our house for Thanksgiving, I asked about you.”  
  
“Ah,” was all Pacey said in return.  
  
There was another long awkward pause between the two, which was funny in Pacey’s mind, considering all the words they had spoken since the day they had met. He almost laughed.  
  
But Dawson wasn’t laughing. He was trying to keep that ‘thing’ under control, but like a ghost, it haunted him, creeping up over his spine, clawing into his mind, until it possessed him and he couldn’t hold his tongue.  
  
“She mentioned you were working at the B&B now, that you are living there.”  
  
“Yeah,” Pacey said, his words laced with a hint of caution. There was something in Dawson’s voice, something he recognized. He decided he would just walk away, he was expected at dinner after all, and he’d already made his feelings known concerning this “friendship”. “Well, I’ve got a dinner to get to…”  
  
“You just can’t leave her alone like she asked? Instead you take up residence in her house? You don’t think she’s going to be pissed off about that?”  
  
Pacey stopped mid-step, shook his head slightly, and decided to just keep walking.  
  
“She chose you Pacey, but you screwed it up. You’re the one who dumped her, remember!” Dawson called out after him.   
  
He swung around, staring at Dawson in disbelief, then let out a dirty laugh. “You know, D, you really frickin’ amaze me. I need a place to sleep, Bessie needs someone to cook, but you can’t see that. No, your brain automatically jumps to the conclusion that I’m moving in on your property.”   
  
“That’s not what I said,” Dawson responded defensively.  
  
Pacey laughed again. “I can’t even believe you, Dawson. Your obsession with this girl from down the creek has moved beyond ridiculous. It’s unhealthy.”   
  
“My obsession…” Dawson started, but Pacey cut him off  
  
“You know what; I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned, stopped himself, unable to resist stating an opinion he’d been harboring for a very long time. He faced his former friend and smiled, holding up a finger in gesture. “But I will say this: She didn’t choose me over you, my friend. She couldn’t. She couldn’t make that choice, so she tried to make it all work, tried to make everyone happy. She couldn’t let you go, so she didn’t. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I knew it. And the only consolation I have in all of that, Dawson, is that she couldn’t choose you over me either. And you knew it, that’s why you sent her chasing after me that day.”  
  
Dawson pulled back slightly, narrowing his eyes at Pacey. “She told you about that?”  
  
Pacey chuckled, an unfriendly sound that matched the bitterness of the November wind whipping about their bodies as they stood, facing off on the street. “That’s right, Joey never talked to me about anything, our relationship was all about sex.”  
  
Dawson made no comment; he only gave a look that was barren, like a tree in the dead of winter. He just stared and Pacey couldn’t read what he saw there.  
  
“You know what, Dawson. Just go away. Go back to your Hollywood dream and leave me the hell alone.” Pacey’s voice was tired, “It’s over. All of it. Everything that you are remembering, everything you hate me for, everything that was ever between us is done. In a couple of months, I’ll be in prison and you will be living a Pacey-free life, out in sunny California. The End. Roll Credits.” Pacey turned and this time he walked away, his strides growing longer and more determined the farther away he got.  
  
“Pacey!” Dawson called out, a flood of regret washing over him, stealing the breath from his lungs. The anger washing away as quickly and unexpectedly as it had come. “Pacey!” he called again and started to go after him, but Pacey put both hands over his ears, like a child, elbows sticking out at either side of his head, and kept on walking. Dawson stopped and watched him leave.   
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
“You know, it is actually a lot warmer inside the house,” Graham said as he stepped out onto the porch and let the screen door shut quietly behind him. He looked down at Pacey, hunched up in one of the chairs; hands in his pockets, collar pulled up around his ears, and waited for a response. He didn’t get one. “You’re late, you’re gonna miss out on all the food, plus you promised Sophie chocolate cake, and you know how seriously she takes her chocolate.”  
  
Pacey cracked a small smile that disappeared before it had even fully manifested. “You know you’re usually happier than this after you are finished at the Center,” Graham said.  
  
“That’s just because those kids treat me like I’m a god,” he said. “It’s probably not healthy; I’ve been told I have a ‘white knight’ complex.”  
  
“And that’s a bad thing?”  
  
“You don’t think?”  
  
“Well, I think that helping people is a good thing and that there are precious few that do it.”  
  
“And you don’t think that me getting off on a ten-year-old’s hero worship is a bad thing?”  
  
“A bad thing? Maybe you should consider that, if they believe in you, then you should believe in yourself. After all, many of those kids haven’t ever been able to believe in anything before and you give them that. The key to surviving it, is to remember some very basic rules. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve tried that.”  
  
“Choose your battles,” Graham added, smiling at Pacey’s comment. “And you can’t save everyone, and you can’t fix everything. No one can.”  
  
He could feel the older man’s eyes studying him, but continued to stare straight ahead out into the darkness. “You have a brother, Graham?”  
  
Graham’s eyebrows went up in apparent surprise at that unanticipated subject change. He sat down in the other chair, shoved his hands in his own pockets to keep warm, and pulled his coat tighter about him. “Nope, actually I’m an only child. Frank is the closest thing to a brother that I have.”  
  
“Ever find yourself competing? You guys ever hurt each other?”  
  
Graham laughed. “Yeah, to all of the above. You can’t be in a relationship with someone without a little pain. No matter what the nature of that relationship is. The closer it is, the more likely you are to get hurt. And I’m told all brothers compete, actually I think all men tend to compete with each other in one way or another. Men are from Mars and all that.”   
  
Pacey just shook his head, too lost in the moment to laugh.  
  
“You want to know how Frank and I met?” Graham asked on a laugh, he didn’t wait for an answer. “It was the summer before sophomore year of high school. I went to Florida to visit the relatives. When I get back, there’s this new guy, and he is going out with my girlfriend. Of course, at first I hated his guts. But it’s a small school, eventually we became friends, the two of them broke up and here we are.” He shrugged. “There have been things since then. We were fierce competitors, more so after we became friends, and who knows how many times one of us has betrayed the other somehow. But you can pretty much forgive your brother anything right? I mean, look at you and Doug.”  
  
Pacey sighed, and a silence settled over them. Just beyond the shelter of the porch, a soft snow had begun to fall. Pacey’s voice was as soft as those first flakes when he said. “What if they don’t want to forgive you? What if they aren’t sorry they hurt you?”  
  
“Well, we’d all like to say that it’s their loss, but the truth is that we lose too. Everybody loses.”  
  
“Story of my life,” Pacey said. “Somehow, I don’t think he feels like he’s lost anything.”  
  
“You never know, Pace, you can never really know what’s inside another man’s heart and mind.”  
  
“So, whatever happened to this girl?” Pacey asked after a long time, finally turning to look at the friend beside him.  
  
“Vanessa?” Graham paused a moment, then a smile split his features. “She married some rich doctor somebody, lives in New York, has a kid. And all I can really think when I remember her, is that Frank saved me, because she and I had grown up together, we’d been together since we could remember. I probably would’ve ended up marrying her, and I would’ve missed out on Sophie. That my friend, that would have been a tragedy.”  
  
Pacey nodded and rose from the chair. “Thanks for the talk man; I just needed a moment to think.”  
  
“You wanna tell me about it?”  
  
“Nah, nothing to tell really,” he said and held out his hand for Graham to take, and pulled him to his feet. “Did ya need a little help old man?” he asked teasingly, but Graham just nodded, looking out at his driveway with a look of dismay. Pacey turned in time to see his parents car pull into the driveway.  
  
“No way, my life just can’t be this bad.”  
  
His mom climbed out of the passenger side and gave him an enthusiastic wave. He heard the front door open and close, and then Doug saying, “What are they doing here?”  
  
“I have no idea.” They both looked at Graham who didn’t respond, but continued to stare as the Capeside town sheriff climbed out of his car.  
  
“Hey boys,” John called out as he opened the back door and started loading his and Mary’s arms with dishes that were obviously laden with food.  
  
“Oh, God, they brought food.”  
  
“Are they planning to stay, or is this some random parental drive-by of sorts?”  
  
“And I’d know this why?”  
  
“Well they actually talk to you,” Pacey said under his breath as his parents drew closer.  
  
Sophie poked her head out of the front door to investigate. “What’s happening out here? I thought traditionally the men were supposed to hang around outside the kitchen watching football on TV, demanding the women hurry up with the food?”  
  
“Sophie, babe, please tell me that this is not your doing.”  
  
She had to push through the men to see what “this” was and stopped short when she saw who was coming up the stairs. “Oh no, and my dinner was coming along so nicely, I suppose now no one will eat it,” she said softly then added with forced cheer, “Hello, Sheriff and Mrs. Witter, what a surprise!”  
  
“Hello, Sophie, is it?” Mary Witter said, freeing a slender white hand and offering it in greeting. “Since none of our girls could make it up this year, and both our boys are eating here, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if John and I just threw ourselves into the mix so to speak.”  
  
At this comment, Sophie’s face went pale and her eyes widened until she looked somewhat like a chipmunk caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler, and Pacey thought that was a fair analogy. There was no way Sophie was going to be able to turn them away after that little plea for sympathy. Her gaze darted from his parents, to him, then Doug, and back to him. He gave her a small smile and she looked sorry as she turned back and ushered his parents into her house with a bright, completely phony smile. “Sure, what’s two more with this bunch?” She led them to the kitchen, introducing them to her friends and family as they went.  
  
“Great,” Pacey said, coming in behind them and staying near the door with Doug. “This is just what we need to aid the digestion.  
  
“Come on, it won’t be that bad.”  
  
“Huh, maybe not for you. You’re still the favored son, and don’t think I never noticed how you and Mom are like two peas in a pod.”  
  
“Whatever, Pace. Let’s just get it over with, ok?”  
  
“Ok, you go keep them distracted, I have to bake a cake.”  
  
  
  
The cake was a big hit all around, his mother praising the talents of the chef, until she’d discovered who it was, then she just looked uncomfortable. His father shoved back his plate, gave his stomach a satisfied pat, and said, “So Graham, I hear you and your wife helped bail Pacey’s ass out of jail.”  
  
Somewhere, there was the clatter of a fork falling, and across the table, Pacey had to forcibly swallow his last bite.  
  
“Maybe we could keep this topic off the discussion list for tonight?” Doug said in a patient tone of voice.  
  
“Now Douglas, your father was trying to thank these people for helping your brother.”  
  
“Yeah, right,” Pacey breathed.  
  
“You look here son; it is my duty as your father to thank these people for helping you and to apologize for any trouble you caused them.”  
  
“It wasn’t any trouble…” Sophie started, but Doug interrupted.  
  
“But not to actually help yourself, I guess. Or maybe you were there in that courtroom after all and somehow I just missed you?”  
  
“Doug!” Mary declared, taken by surprise at his outburst.  
  
“No, Doug that’s fine actually, because I don’t really want their help.”  
  
“Yeah, well you sure as hell seem to need it, the way you keep getting into trouble. It’s just like I’ve been saying …”  
  
“Gee, Pop I’ve just been trying to make you happy. After all, nothing makes you happier than being right. But unfortunately I couldn’t even do that, because you know what, I’m not what you think I am. Today I made a whole room full of people happy, with nothing but a turkey, but I’m never gonna make you happy am I?” He laughed softly. “It’s actually kind of funny when you look at it. You’re the one who’s messed up here, I mean, you’re the sheriff and the only time you’ve managed to be even remotely proud of me, your son, was when I was doing something illegal.”   
  
John opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and watched silently as Pacey left the table. He looked around, finally noticing the discomfort of the others at the table. Paul and Frank went after Pacey and everyone else just stared at their hands or their plate. Except for Doug.   
  
Doug was staring straight into his father’s cool blue eyes with a look of disgust he had never felt for the man before.  
  
“You have to stop, Dad, you can’t keep giving and pulling at him, it’s not right,” Doug said before he got up and followed after Pacey as well.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Dawson groaned and threw himself back onto his bed. It reminded him of being fifteen. Hell, he felt fifteen at that moment: overwhelmingly confused and conflicted.  
  
He heard a creak in the floorboards, a shuffling sound and he sat upright like a neglected rake someone had stepped on. The sound was coming from his closet. The door opened and his heart leapt into his throat, and he was completely paralyzed for what seemed like an eternity.  
  
“You know, it’s really strange, but I have always found the closet to be very comforting. Don’t tell anyone, K? Because, I don’t need anybody doing a Freudian analysis on me because of it,” Audrey said, exiting the closet and coming to sit beside him on the bed. She didn’t notice his state of utter shock as she continued her speech. “I think it’s because I used to hide there whenever my mom would come looking for me. I’d actually get under the dirty clothes because I knew she wouldn’t touch them. That probably sounds kinda gross doesn’t it? Dawson? What, it isn’t _that_ gross, is it?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dawson, come in?”  
  
“Audrey,” he said finally finding his voice. “You just about gave me a heart attack!”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she laughed, looking him over and realizing his shock for the first time. “I thought you were supposed to be some kind of scream king, not a scaredy cat.”  
  
“I just… I thought… Oh never mind!” and he flopped back on the bed again, deciding “Jaws” was better left to be explained another day.  
  
“Where did you go?”  
  
“To see Pacey.”  
  
“Oh how is he?”  
  
“He thinks I’m happy that he could go to prison.”  
  
“Wait… what? Why would Pacey go to prison?”  
  
Dawson lifted himself up part way and supported his weight on his forearms. “They’re trying to pin him with securities fraud from that stockbroker job.”  
  
Audrey drew back, her surprise flashing across her face, along with something else he couldn’t quite identify. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“I only found out about a month ago, and you haven’t called, I haven’t called. I thought you knew.”  
  
“Why would I know? Who would tell me?” she demanded. “How is he? Is he freaking out?”  
  
“I don’t know. We didn’t really talk.”  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“We fought,” Dawson groaned. “I started arguing with him. What is wrong with me? We obviously aren’t friends anymore. Why do I keeping going to see him? I mean, I can’t … I don’t… Ugh!”  
  
“Dawson. I think you need to figure why you it is that he gets to you, because I don’t think Pacey is out to get you.”  
  
“He hates me.”  
  
“Dawson, I dated the guy for a year, and if there is one thing that I can tell you…and this is coming completely from the outside, because I’ve never even actually seen the two of you as friends…but he loves you. You are like his brother. You might remember his actual brother wasn’t really much of one.”  
  
“I don’t even know what that means, Audrey.” Dawson said with a sigh. “Brother. I mean, I assume it would include a certain level of loyalty, and honesty. But I don’t have one so I don’t know.”  
  
“The curse of the only child,” Audrey said, choosing to leave certain parts of his statement alone for the moment.  
  
“I’m not an only child.”  
  
“Ok, Sweet Cheeks, a kid sister seventeen years younger than you doesn’t count,” she laughed.  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked, smiling finally.  
  
“Pretty sure, yeah.”  
  
“Maybe if I go wake her up, she can tell me all the secrets of the universe before she forgets.”  
  
“That would actually be the sound of your mother screaming as she beat your sorry ass for waking up her kid when she just got her to go to sleep.”  
  
“Hmm, I guess that won’t be the solution I need, will it?”  
  
“I’m guessing no.”  
  
“So that leaves one more thing I don’t get.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Why were you in my closet?”  
  
“Um, the one in my room is full of boxes,” and it doesn’t smell like you. She said the last part silently, and turned away pretending to look at the rest of his room, so he wouldn’t read it in her eyes. Oh dear, she was in big trouble.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t leave, I’m really sorry about your parents. Mary called and asked if you were eating here. I just thought it was out of motherly concern, not some attempt to ascertain your whereabouts,” Sophie said, looking over her shoulder at Pacey as she put away the freshly dried dishes that Graham was handing her. Pacey was scraping them first and putting them in the sink, not quite ready to go back home.  
  
“It’s alright, I survived,” he said softly. “Hey, we live in the same town, we’re bound to run into each other; besides, I wouldn’t really want them to be alone on Thanksgiving. I thought Carrie and Gretchen would be here.” He paused and looked up from the dish he was scraping. “You think they ever wonder why it is that all their children try NOT to come home? They’ve even managed to drive away Doug, and he was the most die hard of us all.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said again and he laughed.  
  
“You said that already.” He looked around the kitchen, disappointed to find there was nothing really left for him to do. “Well, I guess that’s it for me. I’ll head home now.”  
  
“Wait Pacey, could you take these dishes and this plate of food over to Glory’s house for me?”  
  
“Wait, she made that chicken dish?” he asked, looking at the bright blue plate that was easy to recognize.   
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“She sent food, but she didn’t come.”  
  
“No, she doesn’t really like the holidays much.”  
  
“I have a hard time believing that; the woman is perpetually happy. Plus, I’ve seen with my own eyes how she loves to eat, Thanksgiving should be her favorite day,” Pacey said, gathering up the things Sophie pointed out for him to take. He looked at the plates again, realizing they had contained much of the dinner they’d just eaten. “I didn’t even know she could cook,” he said to himself before slipping out the back door, giving the couple a wave of goodbye.


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

 

 _I’ve been to sea before, crown and anchor me, or let me sail away…_  
  
Blue, Sarah Maclachlan/Joni Mitchell  
  
  
  
He could feel the bass beat on her porch, outside the door, before he could hear the music. He knocked loudly, but got no response, not surprising, considering the volume level she had going on. He thought maybe he should just leave, but then again, he had told Sophie that he would deliver these dishes. And it was cold outside. And he didn’t want to go home.  
  
He tried the knob and found it unlocked, so he cautiously opened the door, poked his head inside, and looked around. He didn’t see her anywhere in the foyer, so he moved all the way inside, closed the door behind him, and looked into each of the adjoining rooms, the living room on one side, and the dining room on the other. Finding them both empty, he headed back toward the kitchen, assuming she must be somewhere if she was listening to her music this loud. Unless, of course, they were just noisy crooks.   
  
He found her in the kitchen, her back to him, working over the sink, moving her body to the music. He frowned and shook his head as he realized she still had no idea that he was here. He could be anybody just waltzing on in to take advantage. He started toward her, then paused as she started to really get into the music. His eyebrows went way up, and he decided, as he watched her roll her hips very suggestively, his head tipping to the side in appreciation, that whatever his personal taste in music, a taste that prohibited hip hop and rap in all forms, it definitely had its high points.   
  
He was trying to decide how to let her know he was there without scaring her, when she turned around, spotted him and jumped, dropping the large ceramic bowl she’d been holding. It hit the floor, spinning around, throwing salad everywhere, but didn’t break. Once she realized it was just him standing there, she turned around to the under-cabinet stereo, lowered the volume, and then turned back to him, leaning against the counter with her hand over her heart.  
  
“God, I’m so sorry, I knocked but you didn’t hear me, and the door was unlocked, so I just came in,” Pacey started, hurrying to help her pick up the mess. “You know you really shouldn’t do that, anybody could’ve just walked right in and taken total advantage of you. You’d think that after what happened to Jewel and me just last week, that you would realize Capeside isn’t the safe haven it was once thought.”  
  
“You’re rambling.”  
  
He gave her a look. “Glory…”  
  
“I know, you’re right, my hands were full, I couldn’t lock it when I came home. Then I got distracted. It happens to the best of us, you know.”  
  
“Ok, you’re forgiven. This time, but please, from now on, could you lock your door ‘cause I’d hate to think of anything bad happening to you.” He grinned at her, offering her a hand up as he took the salad bowl and got to his feet. “Although, I am pretty upset with you.”  
  
She frowned. “What? Because I didn’t come to Thanksgiving, right? Let me tell you, Chandler Bing has nothing on me when it comes to the hatred of this holiday.”  
  
It was Pacey’s turn to frown. “Who?”  
  
“Seriously, Friends? Ross, Rachel, blah blah…?”  
  
“Yeah, I know I just wanted to get a reaction out of you,” he said, laughing as she smacked him. “Actually, I’m mad because you never told me you were a chef.”  
  
“Who told you I was a chef?”  
  
“Oh no, we are not playing this game again. I didn’t mean chef in the technical term, but the literal term… the actual term…whatever,” he explained, gesturing with his hands. “I just mean you are apparently a great cook, I ate the food you sent over to Sophie’s house.”  
  
“She’s been busy with her wedding planning; I just wanted to help out.”  
  
“And I’m sure you did, it’s just that after all the time we’ve spent talking, you never told me you were into cooking. We talked all about my cooking, and yet somehow this all managed to stay out of the conversation.”  
  
“Well, I am in to cooking, but it’s something that has to be on the back burner, at least for the time being.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Mmm, that’s my secret to keep. But I will share one with you.” She walked into the living room and pulled out a small photo album. She withdrew a single picture and then tucked the album securely back in the bookshelf, keeping its contents turned away from him the entire time. She moved back to him and held it out. “Behold, my baby.”  
  
“It’s a dilapidated old building,” he stated, looking it over.  
  
“No, that is my restaurant.”  
  
His eyes widened, “You own a restaurant?”  
  
“No, right now I own a dilapidated old building, but it will soon be a restaurant.”  
  
“God, that’s amazing. Why are you hanging out here when you’ve got this waiting for you… where is this waiting for you?”  
  
She laughed. “Boston, and none of your business. I just have some things I need to take care of.”  
  
He stepped in close and gave her arm a gentle squeeze as he passed, deciding he should probably go, even though he didn’t feel ready to face the Bed and Breakfast yet tonight. “Well, I for one wouldn’t be caught dead in this town if I had anyplace else to be,” he said leaning in to speak softly next to her ear.  
  
She looked up at him and he smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. He thought he saw something hovering in the depths of her eyes, but he didn’t have time to search it out because all of a sudden, she was kissing him.  
  
And he kissed her back, hard. Pulling her to him, crushing her along with the forgotten photograph against him, his large hands moving over her back, and into her hair, feeling the heat from her body seeping into his, relaxing the tension, easing an ache that had built inside of him he hadn’t wanted to admit to. He poured out every ounce of anger and frustration he felt, every scrap of pain; from this day, from the past year, into that kiss, and she accepted it, and reciprocated with equal intensity. She was actively divesting him of his coat, her quick hands moving immediately to the buttons on his shirt once it was gone, stripping him down to bare skin. Her hands smoothed over his chest and up his arms to his neck, slipping into his hair as she dove into his mouth over and over, matching the rhythm he set.  
  
He wondered for a moment why she was doing this, what were her reasons for kissing him? She stepped back just a moment and pulled her t-shirt off over her head, tossing it aside before pulling him back to her. Her lace-covered breasts crushed against his chest, skin against skin, the contact almost overwhelming, and he decided that he didn’t care what her reasons were, or his own for that matter. And maybe that was his problem in everything, he just did things, he didn’t think them through; he just went with it. But even knowing that didn’t change anything, because she felt warm, and that warmth moved through him, soothing along his nerves and twisted emotions, she smelled enticing, exciting, and different like unusual spices, and she tasted so good because he could taste her, a gift she offered him.  
  
It was not the warmth he longed for, but still warm, not the scent of summer sunshine that haunted him, but still amazing. She was not the taste he craved, but she fed his appetite just the same. And he just didn’t care about anything else.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
Pacey awoke to wintry air and an empty bed. He smoothed his hand over the space next to him, feeling only the cool sheets. He lifted his head slightly, opening one eye and peering over at his lonely hand, tan against the pale blue of the pillowcase. He leaned up on one elbow, running his hand over his mussed hair and looking around the room. It was cast in long shadows that stretched across the hardwood floor, by the soft pale predawn light. He found her, on the balcony, sitting on one of the white chairs, music floating on the breeze, a male voice in melancholy, and she was staring out at the horizon. He could see she was wearing only her white terrycloth robe, and he frowned at the thought of her outside in the cold.  
  
He pulled himself from the bed, wrapping the leaf-green comforter around him, and shuffled out to the balcony. He took a moment to look her over, searching her visage for any sign of regret or pain. He saw her face soft and lost in thought, the gentle curl of smoke that escaped her full lips, her eyes staring ahead, focused on everything and nothing at all.   
  
“I really wish you would stop that,” he commented, his voice still rough and groggy from sleep.  
  
If his voice had surprised her, she didn’t show it, she simply took another long drag from her cigarette. “Can you smell it?” she asked softly.  
  
“No.” He watched as the breeze drew the smoke from her mouth and away from him. “I would just like to see you live to a ripe old age, that’s all,” he said, gathering the comforter tighter around him so he could sit in the companion chair.  
  
“I promise you, Pacey, this cigarette,” and she held it up for emphasis, “will not be the death of me.”  
  
“Maybe not today,” he said, but left it there, knowing that she would do what she wanted and he couldn’t change it. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the chair back, and sighed.   
  
He was only there a moment before he felt it, the familiar sensation starting at the roots of his hair, and tingling throughout the entirety of his body, even beneath the thick comforter he had wrapped around him. The warmth kissed his face, calling to him, and he opened his eyes, all breath leaving his body as he watched the golden light break the surface of the water, reflecting off each gentle ripple, each tumultuous breaker, and filling the sky with vibrant greens and blues. With the vision, came the memory of her face, her voice, the feel of her, her soft lips, her body against his, her breath along his cheek, and he wanted to close his eyes against the onslaught but found that he couldn’t. All he could do was gaze at the scene, as the sunrise unfolded, and be back there, the sun sparkling off the water all around them, backlighting Joey’s familiar and beautiful form as she splashed in the waves, her laugh filling his ears.  
  
He took several deep breaths, trying to undo the pain and the want that was pressing in on his chest like a vice.   
  
_Joey…_  
  
  
  
“Are you ok?” he heard Glory ask from beside him, her voice pulling him into the present, and he turned to look at her. He had completely forgotten she was even there. Get out of my head, damn it Joey, you left me this time, you’ve got no right to be here, he thought. But he didn’t say anything, just turned back to the horizon, golden and bright despite the onset of winter. He realized that he was infinitely screwed up, that he might have messed up another friendship, as well as his job, and he didn’t know what to do about any of it.  
  
A shadow fell across him and he looked up to find her standing there. She had discarded her cigarette and was looking down at him, her face open and readable, her own fears and insecurities showing there in the depths of her gaze.  
  
“We can talk about it if you want,” she said, “Or we can just let it be.”  
  
“Let it be what?”  
  
“That I needed, and you needed,” she shrugged.   
  
He nodded, slowly. “And you’re ok…with everything?” he asked, seeking numerous answers with one question.  
  
She smiled at him. “I am more than okay with everything,” she said with a sly grin. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, as well as the tip of her nose. He looked her over slowly, from head to toe, her brown curls, turned red by the sun behind her, were in disarray, and her robe was loosely tied, gaping open in the front just enough for a tantalizing view, the swell of her breast, her stomach, all the way down to her incredibly long legs. He let the sight of her revealed skin do its work on him, and his gaze returned to hers.   
  
“Really?” he spoke the word slowly, drawing it out in a deep voice.  
  
“Mmm hmm,” she responded with a slow, seductive smile, “I am getting awfully cold out here though.”  
  
“Well then, you should’ve said something,” he replied huskily, opening up the comforter that was wrapped around him, revealing his nakedness and his arousal. “Get in here. I’ll keep you warm.”  
  
“Oh, will you now?” she asked, sliding free the precarious knot in her robe and letting it fall open completely. She climbed inside, straddling his lap as he sat in the chair, and he wrapped the comforter around both of them, pulling her against him, and claimed her lips. He moved his lips over her jaw and down her neck, and she leaned back to allow him better access. He pulled back to study her, head thrown back, breasts full and proud with the nipples pulled tight from the cold and arousal he brought to life in her.   
  
He frowned as he noticed a thick scar just above her left breast. He ran his thumb over it gently, curiously, and she took his hand and lowered it so that it cupped her breast instead. She rocked against him as she took his mouth in another kiss, and he groaned aloud as he thrust his hips up to hers in response.  
  
“I hope these are… high quality chairs you purchased here,” he said between kisses.  
  
“Mmm, they are, Graham built them,” she replied breathlessly, her mouth making its way to nibble on his ear lobe.  
  
“Well, then I guess we’ll be alright.” He said as his hands under her robe cupping her ass and forgetting the blanket entirely.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
“Ugh, I’m too upset to go to work, I’m calling in sick.”  
  
“I don’t think so, Spielberg Boy. If you do, you’ll be on Santos’ shit list for a very long time, and you can’t afford it. We’re not out of the game here; there are other festivals. It’s a nice little movie, I’m proud of it. You should be too.”  
  
Dawson lifted the pillow off of his face and glared at Delsie, standing over him, looking like spring and sunshine in the middle of winter with her pink shirt and bright smile. “I never should have let you borrow my key. I should have known you’d make copies.”  
  
“Well, it’s your own fault then, isn’t it? And, for your information, I didn’t make a copy of your key, I’m not a stalker, I just told your landlady that I got locked out when I went to get coffee for you. You see, I felt bad that you had to go to work today after I kept you up all night.”  
  
Dawson frowned, her insinuation completely lost on him for the longest time. Delsie gave him a disbelieving look, and suddenly the lights came on. “You told Mrs. Liddell we were sleeping together!” he cried, sitting straight up and tossing the pillow, his forgotten fortress, to the floor.  
  
“Well, mostly I insinuated that we were sleeping together,” Delsie said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing him a cup of coffee purchased at her favorite shop. “I really don’t think she minded, Dawson. Besides, I knew you’d be all upset about not getting into The Festival, especially since we had our hopes up and everything.”  
  
“And you’re not?” he asked, taking a sip of the mocha she’d brought him, then placing it on the nightstand.  
  
“Upset? No. Disappointed?” she shrugged. “A little. But, it’s early yet in my career. I’ve worked on films that have gone to The Festival twice already, not a bad start. Especially when you consider that I love what I do. And to think, I wanted to be an actress originally. Amazing how the unexpected turns of life can lead you down a better path. You’ve got time.” To this, he merely groaned, flopped over onto his stomach, and hid under the other pillow. Delsie smacked him hard on the ass. “Now, come on get up, you’ve got to earn your penny loaf of bread, need sustenance for the body if you want to keep that brain of yours happy and creative. Lots of movies out there to be made and this one still needs a title!”  
  
“Fine! I’m up. Please leave.”  
  
“Okay, but I’ll be right outside that door, and if you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m coming back in after you.”  
  
“Ten minutes is all I get to get dressed for the day?”  
  
“What are you, a woman? I’ve seen the clothes you wear; they already look slept in, get up and come as you are!” she said before she closed the door. Dawson waited a moment to be sure she wasn’t going to open it back up, then threw off his blankets and went to the closet for clothes. He laughed when he heard her shout through the closed door. “I changed my mind. Dress pretty and after work, I’ll take you out for a “Life Sucks so Let’s Get Pissed” party!”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
“I just realized that you said we were here to get pissed.” Dawson said, leaning forward across the table so as to be heard over the pounding music that filled the club.  
  
“Yes, I’ve decided to start slang terms, like ‘pissed’ ‘kitch’ and ‘skint’, they sound nifty swell.”  
  
“I didn’t even notice it. Too much time with Todd,” Dawson said, taking another swallow of his drink, the warmth of the alcohol hitting his stomach and moving out to his limbs, making him feel loose and relaxed. “You really are the strangest person I know. Do you realize that?”  
  
She smiled, “Really? The strangest?”  
  
Dawson spotted Burke making his way toward them through the crowd. “Ok, I take it back, second strangest.” Delsie turned to follow his gaze. Burke stumbled through the crowd to the table, bracing his hands on the edge of the polished marble to stop himself, and taking a deep breath. He leaned in with one hip as he spoke.  
  
“This crowd is wild tonight, and I am loving it,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “There is the most scrumptious couple over by the bar; I’m going to go see if they need a plaything for the evening. Ta-ta.” He gave a little wave and was lost again to the crowd. Dawson just laughed, having no other recourse as a kid from a small and somewhat provincial town; he had no idea how to deal with Burke’s very foreign outlook on sexuality. He liked the guy, but when they were out on the town, Dawson couldn’t deny he was a bit frightened by him.  
  
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” he hollered over the music, making a face after Burke was safely out of earshot.  
  
“You’re in Hollywood now, Dawson, Burke is nothing compared to the crazy lifestyles people live around these parts. But, don’t worry, there are plenty of everyday boring people like you around, too,” she said, reaching over to pat his arm.  
  
“Hey, you mentioned earlier that you wanted to be an actress, what’s that about?”  
  
“Oh,” she said, quickly swallowing the drink she’d just taken so she could answer. “It’s totally true; I thought I would be the next Cameron Diaz… or whoever. I went to this big audition, and I took my sister with me because I was so nervous. Well, they would only let in the people who were actually auditioning, so she signed up, and guess what, she got the part.”  
  
“What? That must have sucked. What did you do?”  
  
“Well, I cried and screamed, I was so mad! She just said, ‘you made me, you made me go!’ and I said, ‘Yeah, but you didn’t have to be good!’ Oh, but she was good, and after awhile, I got over it. It took a long time, but it didn’t matter if I stopped talking to her, or said mean things to her. She’s my sister, and she’s here.” She pointed to her head. “Inside my brain, inside my heart. I couldn’t get rid of her. Plus, once I realized how happy she was…I had to get over it. She’s my sister, and you can forgive your sister anything, right?”  
  
Dawson thought on this, nodding vaguely, and pictured little Lillie pulling the film out of his camera, an entire day’s work down the drain, and she was cooing and giggling, lost in an unraveled pile of his dreams. He smiled. Uninvited, Pacey came to his mind, a flood of images, bouncing and colliding across his consciousness, and there was so much emotion there that he had to push it away, the intensity of it stealing his breath away.  
  
“Anyway, it worked out for the better,” Delsie was saying with a shrug as she moved to get up. “Now, I’m gonna go see if I can find myself some action for tonight. Nothing makes disappointment easier to take than a little sexual satisfaction.”  
  
Dawson watched her leave, watched as she hooked up with some oversized, muscle-bound guy who probably had an IQ all of twelve, and started dancing to the bump and grind music. He frowned.  
  
He couldn’t deny that the idea of sex right now was definitely appealing. It felt good, and right now he felt awful, but he couldn’t quite reconcile himself to the idea of having sex out of the blue, with a complete stranger.   
  
Of course then again, Natasha hadn’t been much more than a stranger the first time he’d had sex with her, but she had all but attacked him, and there had been Amy, but they had spent hours upon hours talking before anything had happened. Both times, the girls had made the first move. He sighed, maybe he just wasn’t the sexual predator type. Uh, what did that make him then? He didn’t know, and he decided he was tired of trying to analyze the whole thing and instead, he decided to just get completely and utterly “pissed.”   
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Dawson stayed within the shadows as he made his way back to the small guesthouse. He was patting his pockets, trying to remember where he put his key, if he had left them at the bar, if he even remembered where the bar was, when a harsh voice caught his attention. He jumped slightly and lost his balance, falling back against one of the palm trees. He held his breath and listened.  
  
“Why the hell are you calling me? I thought we had an agreement.” Dawson sighed in relief as he realized the voice hadn’t been talking to him. He looked toward the door he was headed for, but decided he was too dizzy, and the tree felt rather comfy.  
  
“Well, you better hope that broad doesn’t get him off, because they’ll be coming after you next, and I won’t be there to bail you out… yeah I know he’s good, that’s why I sent him to you, Moron. That was the plan! A room full of young naive guys who wanted money, needed money, and to spoil them with benefits and cash they couldn’t resist. It wouldn’t have worked if they weren’t excellent salesmen! They needed to be able to sell the stock. If he hadn’t been the best, he wouldn’t be the one, and if he doesn’t take the fall, they’ll be coming after you next Rinaldi, and if they don’t get you I will. Do we understand each other, Dick? Good, now you just go back to the blonde bimbo of the week or whoever it is you’re doing these days and leave the rest to the guys with brains. This plan will work if you pansy ass fuck-ups stay the hell out of the way!”  
  
Why do parts of this conversation sound familiar? Dawson scrunched up his face in an effort to remember, the alcohol in his system interfering with even the smallest of ordinary tasks. See, this is why you don’t get drunk, he thought, it’s just a really bad idea. He almost laughed at himself when he heard Mr. Liddell talking again. He made an ‘oops’ face and covered his mouth, leaning back farther into the tree.  
  
“Decker, Liddell here, what is the ETA on your cleaning guy?” There was a lengthy pause, “That’s not good enough! Damn it, I was never supposed to be this involved, now I have the thing upstairs, in my office and it needs to be cleaned and I mean now! This is like the Three Ring Fucking Circus with all the crap I’ve had to deal with; he wasn’t supposed to be using it in the first place. We’re lucky that Witter forgot the damn thing at the office in his huff to get out of there when the shit hit the fan.”  
  
At that moment, Dawson’s eyes grew wide. Witter? Even drunk he knew that name. Was he talking about Pacey? Surely there were other Witters around, and they were miles away from Capeside, but that would be quite a coincidence. He held his breath, listening as Mr. Liddell snapped shut his phone and went into the main house, muttering under his breath.   
  
He sighed once again with relief and hoisted himself up off the palm tree, which took two tries, and stumbled toward the door. He found his keys were already in his hand and fumbled the right one into place. Once inside, he leaned against the door and wondered for a moment what was going on. It was something; something was there just beyond the reach of his vodka-soaked brain. He walked toward the couch, tripped, fell onto the deep comfy cushions, and decided that whatever it was could wait until morning when he could think.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
An excruciating laser of sunlight was piercing through his retinas, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. On top of that, there was an incessant pounding echoing through his skull. It felt like someone was hitting him in the head with a sledgehammer over and over and over. He groaned and searched for his pillow so he could hide under it, but all he found was slick, supple leather. Wait, his bed wasn’t leather.  
  
He finally lifted his head slightly and cracked open one eye to investigate.  
  
Oh, he was on the couch. Nice to know. He let his head fall back and relaxed again knowing that he was at least home. He grimaced as the pounding started up again. He grabbed his head and rolled over, falling off the couch and crashing to the floor. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and looked around the room, finally realizing that the pounding wasn’t inside his head, but rather coming from the front door. And it apparently had a voice.  
  
“Dawsuuuuhn! Let me in! I don’t want to go to my parents’ house right now. Please! I’m just not ready yet!”  
  
He frowned and stood to his feet, grabbing the arm of the couch as the world went black around him for a moment. Once everything came back into view, he stumbled to the door and pulled it open, revealing an Audrey who was far too beautiful-looking for his current state of mind. She smiled at him, her hair glowing in the morning sun. She was wearing a light sweater that accented her eyes with its soft blue color, and her cleavage with its deep-V neckline.  
  
“You look like crap!” she said perkily, “are you hung over?”  
  
His scowl deepened. “Audrey, what are you doing here?” he asked, his fuzzy brain thinking he must have missed something.  
  
She misunderstood. “Well, if that’s the reception I’m gonna get, then I guess I would rather see my parents.” She turned to leave, but he reached out for her arm and gently pulled her inside.  
  
“That’s not what I meant, I’m just confused.”  
  
“You’re hung over? God, you smell like vodka.”  
  
A worried look crossed his face. “I’m sorry Audrey; I’m going to take a shower right now.”  
  
She smiled, “It’s ok, Dawson, I’m not overcome with the urge to go have a drink of my own at this moment. But do shower; hung over drunk boy, is… not a good smell.”  
  
“If I’m hung over, then I am no longer drunk,” he said smartly before leaving the room.  
  
  
He was fresh out of the shower and just starting to shave, when he heard her voice through the bathroom door. “So what is it that has you drinking yourself into oblivion these days? It’s not a good way to go, let me tell you.”  
  
He looked at the door a second and then opened it to find her leaning casually against the wall, still looking gorgeous. “Do I need a reason?”  
  
“Well, no, but this is you we’re talking about. The Dawson Leery. The only time I’ve seen you drunk was just after your dad died. You didn’t insult anyone near and dear to your heart this time did you? Pacey told me about your sixteenth birthday, by the way.”  
  
Dawson shook his head. “Just another reason I love the guy,” he said sarcastically. But wasn’t there something he needed to remember about Pacey? He frowned and studied his reflection, but came up empty.   
  
“So cough it up,” Audrey was saying.  
  
“What? Oh, yeah the drinking. Well, the movie was this close to getting into The Festival.” He made a narrow gesture with his fingers. “But we got turned away, so we went out to wallow last night.” Dawson said. “Delsie went home with some Arnold Schwarzenegger body double, Burke went home with… I don’t even want to know, and I got completely drunk. I can’t even remember coming home last night.”  
  
“You didn’t bring anyone home with you?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off a stream of water that was trickling down this throat where it pooled at his collarbone before spilling over to continue down his chest.  
  
“No, at least I don’t think so…” he said with a frown, turning back to the mirror and putting shaving cream on his face. “Are you going to watch me shave?” he asked after a moment, looking over at her through his foam-covered fingertips.  
  
She nodded. “I like to watch you men do your thing,” she said.  
  
When he was rinsing his face off, she stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, surprised by the touch, water still dripping from his chin. He was even more surprised to see the hungry look in her eyes as she let her gaze roam his body, and he became acutely aware that he was still only wearing a towel.   
  
“Did you want to bring someone home last night, Dawson?”  
  
“Hmm?” he said standing up and unintentionally letting her hand glide over his chest. “Wha… why?”  
  
Audrey just watched her hand as her fingers slipped through the hairs on his chest. She had spent the entire trip over thinking about him, thinking about all the time they’d spent together, how she had watched him sleep that night he’d stayed in her dorm before heading out to California. Something about him drew her, and when he’d come to make sure she had someplace to be for Thanksgiving, to make sure she wasn’t alone for the holiday after her parents had taken a trip without her, that had been it for her. After spending the last 30 minutes thinking of him naked behind this door, she was more than a little interested in being as close to him as she could get.  
  
“Because…” She reached down and pulled her sweater off over her head and her breasts bounced free, heavy even with the support of her lace demi-cup bra. “If you need a little pick me up, Dawson, I’d be more than happy to be the girl you bring home.” She leaned in and kissed his lips softly, pressing into his chest, her eyes searching his hungrily, looking for even the slightest hint that she affected him as he did her.  
  
“Audrey wait,” he said, pulling back ever so slightly, his hands gently holding her upper arms, the warmth of his touch seeping into her skin as they slid slowly up and down. He gave her a soft kiss of his own in return before he continued. “What is this?”  
  
“I don’t know, but I’ve wanted to do that since the day you showed up to keep me company at rehab.”  
  
He swallowed, his hands now smoothing up and down her arms. “You kissed me at the airport…”  
  
“Not like this…” she whispered, and kissed him again, this time more forcefully, her tongue running over his lower lip.  
  
“No, not like that,” he replied, smiling and wrapping her up in his arms, crushing her tightly to his chest, and kissing her back.  
  
“Mmm, well then, how about a little more?” she asked, and his answer was to kiss her again, passionately, even as she backed him up against the wall.  
  
“I think I could handle a lot more of that,” he said breathlessly, pulling back just a bit, taking in her passion-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips with his gaze.   
  
She smiled, “So could I.”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Audrey sat up in bed, pulling the sheet tightly around her, which had the effect of a French corset on her large breasts, and sighed, looking to the sleeping figure sprawled out on his back beside her. She couldn’t help but smile a little, at the childlike look on his face, as she listened to his soft easy breathing. Then she sighed again.  
  
Damn, she wanted a drink.  
  
She looked out the window and wondered how this whole soul mate thing worked. Did Joey know, even now what had happened? Was she actively seeking out how best to do her in? Making some sort of voodoo doll maybe? She propped her chin on the heel of her hand. True, Joey had seemed to really be over Dawson the last time she talked to her. She seemed to see him as her friend, an important friend but nothing more. Still, this was practically sacred ground here.   
  
Yep, she was going to hell, that’s all there was to it, because there just had to be a very harsh and torturous punishment for sleeping with not just one, but two, of your roommate’s, and inarguably best friend’s, ex-boyfriends. It was just very, very, very wrong.  
  
Another sigh escaped her and she looked back at Dawson, still sleeping beside her. He was smiling in his sleep.  
  
How come it didn’t feel wrong?   
  
He stirred, coming awake and turned to look at her. “Hey,” he said groggily, squinting at her with only one eye open. “What time is it?”  
  
“Four o’clock, I think,” she replied quietly.  
  
Dawson frowned, finally taking note of her demeanor, he reached out and gave her leg a gentle squeeze under the blanket. “Are you ok?”  
  
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”  
  
He sat up and looked at her intently. “Are you upset about this? About what happened?”  
  
She nodded her head, but said, “No.”  
  
That brought out a small, uncertain grin on Dawson’s face. “Was it a mistake?”  
  
“Yes…no…I don’t know.”  
  
“Audrey, you know that I really care about you right? I can’t stand the thought of this ruining our friendship, or even worse, hurting you in some way.”  
  
She looked at him, his words soothing her worries somewhat. She saw in his eyes that no matter what, he’d still be there for her. Man, these people were weird.  
  
“Dawson, what about Joey?”  
  
His eyes darkened slightly at the mention of her name and Audrey almost winced. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Well, what’s going on between the two of you?”  
  
“I really don’t know. I think we parted as friends, but who can say; after all, she’s not speaking to me right now.”  
  
“She’s not speaking to anyone, so that isn’t just about you. She is my best friend Dawson, and I’m afraid this is gonna hurt her. She is going to hate me.”  
  
“She’s not going to hate you.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“How is this any different than before?”  
  
“Before?”  
  
“With … um…with Pacey?”   
  
“It’s totally different, she was just in love with Pacey; she is obsessed with you!”  
  
“What? What is that supposed to mean? Joey is not obsessed with me…”  
  
“Yes she is, and you are with her, too. It’s this crazy soul mates thing! I mean, what is that anyway? Because with you two, it seems like a curse.”  
  
“Look, Joey is not the issue here, ok, this is about you and me, and I, for one, am actually pretty happy about what happened!”  
  
“Of course you are, you got laid!”  
  
“I’m not like that Audrey and you know it. You know what. Joey is in France, I don’t care what she thinks. As a matter of fact, she can kiss my ass! I want to do this. You and me. I want to do this.”  
  
She looked at him, and her face softened. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”  
  
He reached out and pulled her to him, and she let him, relaxing against his body. “Maybe I don’t, but I do know that I really like you, and when I am with you I feel… free, like I haven’t in a long time.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah,” he kissed her hair. “So, for right now, can we just not worry about all the things that could screw this up? We can deal with all of that later.”  
  
She yawned, finally feeling herself relax again, the urge to hit the nearest bar faded now, though never fully gone. “Okay. We’ll have a nice Christmas together until you go home.”  
  
“I’m not going home actually. I have too much to take care of here. I need to promote this film, plus I have work to do for Santos. He’s only giving us two days off for it, not enough to go all the way home. I invited Mom down here, but she doesn’t really sound too enthused about it.”  
  
“Alright, then I guess we’ll have a nice Christmas altogether, and we’ll deal with the fall out in the New Year,” Audrey said, pressing her face into his shoulder to hide the worry that hovered there in her countenance.


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

 

 _I’m here without you baby_ _  
 _but your still on my lonely mind_  
 _I think about you baby_  
 _and I dream about you all the time…__  
Here Without You, Three Doors Down.  
  
  
  
Pacey heard the sound of his watch alarm beeping through the thick haze of his dream. He stirred, disturbing the warm body that lay next to him, causing her to snuggle in tighter, tossing her arm over his chest. He looked down at that arm, the deep honey color such a contrast against his own.   
  
She was all warm tones and he was all cool. Joey had said that once. He didn’t understand it, but he knew it meant that Joey’s skin against his made him look pale and a bit pink, no matter how nice of a tan he managed to get.  
  
And he could almost pretend this was her arm, all golden brown over his chest, that it was Josephine Potter, the beautiful girl with the soulful eyes and full pouting lips, the girl that he had loved for so long it was hard to remember not loving her.   
  
But he wouldn’t pretend, because it wouldn’t be fair.  
  
Not to Glory, who deserved to be more then a poor man’s substitute, not fair to Joey, who was Joey, and there was no one like her. And it wasn’t fair to him, because he would never have her and he needed to stop thinking about it.  
  
He lifted Glory’s arm carefully off his chest and moved out from under her. The shifting of the bed disturbed her and she rolled over, the arm that had been holding him now flung across her face. He smiled and shook his head, when she started calling out drink names in her sleep.  
  
He took a shower and changed into the clothes he had brought, knowing that he had to go straight to work this morning. It would be a busy day. Once he was dressed, he knelt down next to the bed and shook her shoulder gently, “Glory…Glo. I’m leaving now. I have to get to work.”  
  
“Wait…” she said, sleepily reaching out to him and taking a hold of his arm. “Just a sec.”  
  
He waited, but she just laid there with her eyes closed. “Glory I have to go, we have a full house this morning, Lots of eggs to be scrambled, bacon to fry.”  
  
“I know, I just wanted to say…” she frowned, and didn’t finish.  
  
“Merry Christmas?”  
  
“Yeah,” she said, smiling and leaning out over the bed to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Pacey.”  
  
“God, you are useless in the mornings.”  
  
“Shut up. Don’t make me bite you.”  
  
“You already did that. I’m not scared,” he said cheekily.  
  
“Grrr, go make breakfast for the tourists, leave me alone to sleep.”  
  
“What are you doing today?” he asked, frowning guiltily. Why hadn’t he asked before?  
  
“I’ve got some plans, but they involve more sleep, so scat.”  
  
“Okay.” He strode to the door with his unique stride. He turned just as he opened it. “Merry Christmas.” He called back to her, but Glory just smiled sleepily without lifting her head from the pillow.  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
“Ahem.” Bessie said, looking up from the morning paper and looking at him as he walked into the kitchen without noticing her. Pacey looked up startled.  
  
“Hey, I guess I’m a little late this morning huh?” he said sheepishly, not quite looking her in the eye. “We had a killer night last night. It’s amazing how many people want to drink themselves to death on Christmas Eve.”  
  
“Yeah, go figure,” she said, looking at him with a knowing smile before sipping her coffee. “Of course, that is one of the perks of actually sleeping here. You get up and you’re at work, allows for more sleep time in the morning.”  
  
He laughed and nodded, opening the fridge and pulling out the carton of eggs. “True, and it also allows for sleeping on the job, what with all the beds.”  
  
“Pacey, I’m worried about you. You need to be careful…”  
  
“You know what Bess?” Pacey said, turning around and waving his hands in the air. “I’m not having this discussion with you.”  
  
“You hardly ever sleep here anymore.”  
  
“I’m always here in time to make breakfast. I haven’t ever really been late, have I?”  
  
“No,” Bessie said, dragging out the word. She set down her cup and offered a different approach. “You know, Bodie and I were always very careful, as a matter of fact, we never had sex without protection. I got pregnant with Alex while I was on the pill.”  
  
About halfway through her speech, Pacey had dropped his spatula. He bent over to pick it up, and pointed it at her. “You know, there is such a thing as too much information.”  
  
She ignored him. “At least I was in a fairly healthy and steady relationship. The truth is, accidents happen. I understand, believe me, about the lure of sex. It feels good. It is good, but the thought of something like that happening to you at this point in your life, especially with some random girl. I just don’t want that for you, Pacey.”  
  
He sighed and stopped scrambling the eggs, setting down the fork and covering the bowl with a towel before putting it in the refrigerator. He walked over and sat down across from her. “You really want to have this conversation?”  
  
“I just want to talk to you. I understand, Pacey, you can talk to me Okay? I care about you.”  
  
“It wasn’t a one night stand. It’s the same woman, alright?”  
  
“You have girlfriend?” she asked with a smile.  
  
“Um, no, not girlfriend per se.”  
  
“A relationship?”  
  
He laughed, “I really have no idea. Just mutual and exclusive.”  
  
“Well…I guess that’s better than going home with random girls from the bar,”  
  
“I’ve always felt I do my best work when I can get to know the girl a little bit first,” he said with a smart ass grin.  
  
“Come on, Pacey, be serious.”  
  
“I was being serious.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “But is that what you want? Just sex?”  
  
“It’s not just sex, there’s friendship…we’re friends.”  
  
“Friends who sleep together? I don’t know Pacey…”  
  
“She’s safe, she’s not gonna fall in love with me, she’s not gonna expect anything more than what we have going on right now.”  
  
“And that’s fine with you? You don’t want more?”  
  
“This is all I really have to give right now.”  
  
Bessie gave him a long studious look, and frowned. “What about you, falling in love with her?”  
  
He gave a soft laugh, “That’s not possible.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“It just isn’t. Any more of this third degree?” he asked leaning forward. “You want to know what brand of condoms I use, or what type of pill she’s on? Because I would say Trojans and she uses one of those patch thingies you stick on.” His look held mischief, but he didn’t get the rise out of her he’d hoped for. Nope, this Potter woman was on the other side of prudish.  
  
“Oh and how does she like it?”  
  
He smiled at that, unable to help it as he watched her casually sip her coffee. “I don’t know; I’ll have to ask her.”  
  
“Good, you do that, because I have been thinking about using it myself.”  
  
He shook his head. Bessie, who knew he would like her so much? He still remembered when she would smack his hand with the spatula for stealing cookies while she and her mother were making them. He watched her peruse the paper, his thoughts churning around inside his head.   
  
“So, you just gonna leave me with my guts hanging out, as Sophie likes to say, all by myself? You have to reciprocate,” he said, “So now you get to tell me what’s bothering you.”  
  
“Nothing,” she said, looking up at him and giving a little shake of her head. “I’m fine. Why would you ask that?”  
  
“Because, you’re not fine,” he smiled softly, “and I happen to care about you too.” He got up, poured himself some coffee, then sat back down across from her, and waited. He took a sip of the coffee, the strong black flavor waking his mouth, the strong scent of it filling his nostrils clearing any remaining fog from his brain.  
  
Bessie was staring out the window. He thought it was hopeless, that she wasn’t going to tell him, and he was just about to get back to breakfast when she spoke, her words slow and deliberate, as if she had to force them to emerge at first, then falling freely from her lips as a tear escaped. “I miss Bodie.”  
  
Pacey sat back down and frowned. He had known something was wrong, that something was off with Bodie’s departure, and now he could feel it, heavy in the air around them. “But he comes in every weekend. He’s here right now.” He stated cautiously.  
  
“Not for me. He sleeps on the floor.”  
  
“Okay. So, you’re split up? Why didn’t you tell me? Anyone?” he asked, searching her face. “I don’t understand, what’s going on?”  
  
“He asked me to marry him.”  
  
Pacey almost choked on his coffee, he hadn’t seen that coming in the slightest. He had always just thought of them as already married. “Okay,” he said again, wanting her to continue, but having nothing to say without further information.  
  
“I said no.”  
  
“Why did you say no? You don’t want to marry him?”  
  
“Why did he have to do that, Pacey? Everything was fine just how it was. Why screw around with it?”  
  
“I don’t know Bessie, as a guy, I have to say that there is a certain appeal to placing your name on the woman you love.”  
  
“Because you want to own us,” she said with a harsh laugh.  
  
“No, because it makes it harder for someone to take you away from us.” Pacey said, “And maybe that is selfish, I don’t know.”  
  
“Husbands cheat.”  
  
“And lovers don’t?” he asked, “c’mon Bess.”  
  
“I just can’t do it, Pacey. I can’t. I don’t want to end up alone and in pain like my mother.”  
  
Pacey sighed, there was a lot to say to that, but he decided to leave it alone. What could he say anyway? This was something Bessie needed to deal with inside of herself, and he knew the feeling.  
  
“So he left?”  
  
“He said he couldn’t live his life with a woman who was ashamed to be his wife. Ashamed! I’ve given birth to his son, I’ve loved him…how could he think that?”  
  
“I don’t know Bessie. I don’t know what he is thinking, but he is an idiot to let you go.”  
  
She gave him a weak smile, and reached out for his hand. “Thanks, Pace. God, I needed to get that off my chest.”  
  
“I can imagine. Do you want me to talk to him?”  
  
“No, God no, just let it be. He still comes to see Alexander, so that’s what is really important. But he really misses Bodie during the week.”  
  
“I’m sure he does.” Pacey said, squeezing her hand and giving her a quiet smile. “Well, I really should get to the cooking since it looks like morning is upon us. The kids are going to be hopping around this place at any minute looking for presents.”  
  
“Ok, you do that. I’ll go make sure everything else is ready.”  
  
He nodded, got up from the table, and turned to her as he opened the fridge. “Hey, Merry Christmas, Bessie.”  
  
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Pace,” she said, then slipped out of the kitchen to get ready for a big B&B Christmas morning.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“The New Year is upon us, and things are off to a running start.” Meggie said, settling herself at the kitchen table across from Pacey, who was nervously studying his nails. “Starting with the fact that they have set a date for your trial.”  
  
His gaze shot up at that, looking at her face questioningly. “An actual date? Not just an abstract answer?”  
  
“Uh huh, January 27th, 2004.”  
  
Pacey looked down again, feeling relief war with anxiety inside him. One thing less and one thing more to worry about, it seemed.  
  
“And, I have one other bit of news. It’s been so crazy with the holidays, but now that they are behind us, we can move forward at a quicker pace, and we’ll need to,” she rambled about, as she pulled her briefcase up and set in on the table. “I have not just one, but two handwriting experts who are willing to testify that the signatures on the sales are not yours.”  
  
“What?” his face brightened.  
  
“This means I can more than likely get you off the insider trading charge, which should cast some doubt in the jury’s mind as to your guilt in the other areas. They’ll see you as being used by these people, if things go our way.”  
  
His stomach dropped right back down to the floor. “And if they don’t go our way?”  
  
Meggie sighed, “They could see it as part of the conspiracy, that you had the certificates forged on purpose to make yourself look innocent.” She stopped talking when Pacey let his head fall to the table. She reached out and ruffled his hair. “I’m sorry Pacey, this is a crazy thing. Nuzback has a lot of paper, paper that leads to you, these papers do have your signature, even my guys will say that, and distortion of information is the biggy they have on you. This letter from Rinaldi you found is something, and it will definitely have them looking into him next, but I’m afraid it’s not enough to clear you of suspicion.”  
  
“But it’s there, in everything they wrote to me. It’s right there,” he said, splaying his hands out in frustration.”  
  
“Insinuation, that’s all and it won’t make a case, but we can hope for reasonable doubt. That’s all we need. We’ll fill the stand with your friends and family, with personal testimony, we’ll try to get them to see that you wouldn’t do this sort of thing to people.”  
  
“Who is going to testify to that?” he asked weakly, his head still in his arms.  
  
“Well, I’ve already got a list. Let me take a look. I see Gale Leery, mother figure, spent a lot of time with you as a child, and through your teen years. ‘Pacey can be a bit of a handful, but he has a heart of gold. He’d give his shirt off his back if it would help someone who needed it,’ is what she told me.  
  
I have a Bessie Potter, friend of the family and current employer. “Pacey is one of the most reliable people I know.”  
  
I also have Kevin Cecrest, the owner of Bonne Belle, who says positive things about you. Evelyn Ryan,” Pacey looked up at the name. “You lived with her for awhile during the time in question, she says very nice things about you, she said you seemed like a rapscallion, but that the very idea that you would do such a thing, that could hurt people like this, was “flapdoodle.”  
  
“You called Grams?”  
  
“No, she called me, also a Jen Lindley who says, ‘Please, the only thing Pacey could be considered guilty of is excessive horniness, and maybe a killer chocolate cake,’ very funny girl. Oh, and this is my favorite. “Nuh uh, not Pacey, no way, never happen,” from a Mr. Jack McPhee.”  
  
Pacey smiled  
  
“Seems to me you have a whole entourage in your corner, Mr. Witter. Maybe we will have a small chance at this thing after all. Hmm?”  
  
“All we can do is try,” he said.  
  
“And hope.”  
  
“Ahh, hope hasn’t been too kind to me lately. I’ll leave that one to you, Megs.”  
  
“Alright then, I’ll see you later?”  
  
“Of course, right on time just like always,” Pacey said, walking her to the door and waving goodbye before closing it and resting his head against the inside. The phone rang, and he pulled away to answer it.  
  
“Potter B&B how can I help you.”  
  
“Good, you sound perkier today; I might actually want to stay at this so call Bed and Breakfast now. How is the food? I here the chef is really good.” Pacey smiled widely at the sound of the familiar voice.  
  
“Oh, he is, and his cooking isn’t half bad either,” he replied lecherously, as he strode into the kitchen, and started unloading the dishwasher.  
  
“You never give up, do you?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Hey, Pace.”  
  
“Hey yourself, Lindley. I was just talking about you.”  
  
“Happy New Year.”  
  
“You’re a week late.”  
  
“Well, Grams had a rough time over the holidays, I’m sorry.”  
  
Pacey frowned, even though she couldn’t see it. “No, don’t be, I just like to give you a hard time, you know that. Is she alright?”  
  
“She will be, I hope. New batch of chemo and she’s taking it hard.” There was a pause, and he heard her sigh. “I feel bad, I wish I could come down there, you know be there for you more.”  
  
“Yeah, well I appreciate that, but Grams needs you more than I do.”  
  
“I’m not so sure about that.”  
  
“I’m fine woman! Stop smothering me,” he said playfully.  
  
“I could send Jack.”  
  
“Please no, not Jackers, besides how would you live without him.”  
  
“I don’t know, but I’d try, for you.”  
  
“Well, what could he do?” he shrugged to himself. “I mean honestly, there’s nothing he could do. You need him there, Grams needs him. And I’m not completely alone here in hell, seems a few other people around these parts don’t completely suck, not the least surprising of which is my brother, Doug.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah,” Pacey said softly with a smile, “Turns out he doesn’t find me a complete waste of space after all.”  
  
“Well, I’m happy for you. A good brother is a good thing.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So...” Jen paused letting the word hang in the air between them for a moment. “Heard any word from the prodigal?”  
  
He sighed, not surprised that she brought it up, but wishing she hadn’t. “Nope.”  
  
“No mysterious hang ups when you answer the phone? Bessie get calls from her?”  
  
“I really don’t know.”  
  
“Ok,” she said, letting it go. “Look, Pace, I have to go now, but just remember I love you, Ok.”  
  
“Well, I love you too, Lindley.”  
  
“I know. Bye.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
He looked at the phone as he hung it up, then clipped it to his belt. It was only going to be him and Alexander today. Bessie had run to Boston on business, and wouldn’t be back until the following morning. He didn’t want to miss any phone calls while he was doing the rest of the chores.  
  
He finished unloading the dishes and moved on to wiping everything down so that the kitchen shone. No guest who decided to wander about would find anything amiss in his kitchen. While Bessie was gone, he wanted to make sure he earned the trust she had placed in him by leaving him there alone, with not just her business, her livelihood, but also her son. He didn’t want his being there to reflect badly on Bessie in any way.  
  
As he finished with the kitchen, he saw off the guests who were checking out, wished them well, and felt a little proud when they commented on his cooking. He took a few phone calls for reservations, one strange hang up, and cleaned up the living room.  
  
He moved through the rooms, stripping the beds and making them with fresh, clean sheets, his movements smooth now, after the hours he’d spent doing it. The last few rooms were done with Alex hanging from his back, having awakened from his nap and insisting that he was the knight and he needed his trusty steed to carrying him to his swing set.  
  
Pacey had said that was just fine, but the trusty steed needed to finish the beds, so they‘d come to a compromise.  
  
Once the house was spotlessly clean and Alex had gotten remarkably dirty in a very short time, Pacey had fed him and given him a bath where the water on the floor far exceeded the water in the tub. The boy was going down to bed when there was a soft knock on the front door. He settled Alex in carefully and hurried to answer it.  
  
“Good evening,” Sophie said, smiling at him from behind a notebook she had clutched to her chest. Her cooking notebook. Behind her were Graham, Paul, Frank, and Justine.  
  
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” he asked unable to hide the pleasure he felt at seeing them all gathered there.  
  
“Well, you had to bail on the cooking class, so we brought the cooking class to you.”  
  
He laughed. “Alright. What are we making?”  
  
“Chocolate Cake?” Sophie asked hopefully.  
  
“Oh, no,” Pacey said, poking her nose. She was so much shorter than him that he couldn’t resist. “That is a secret that I will take to my grave.”  
  
She chuckled, and they cleared off the counters, moved the table, and set up their classroom of sorts the best they could in the B&B’s modest kitchen, which was nowhere near as adequate for the undertaking as Glory’s enormous, sage green painted kitchen, where they usually did this.   
  
It had started not long after Thanksgiving when they had all started to swap recipes. Paul and Sophie, aside from Glory and Pacey, were the only ones who could cook with any skill, Frank and Justine didn’t completely suck, but Graham was only there to be with his wife and his friends because he admittedly couldn’t boil water without something going terribly wrong.  
  
Doug was usually included in their little bunch when he wasn’t working nights, but he had been scarce lately because he was heading up some huge manhunt that apparently was spread out over two counties.   
  
“Ok,” Pacey said, wrapping his apron around his waist. “I have no idea what we are cooking.”  
  
“It’s up to you Pace-arino. You’re the chef and we are the amateurs,” Paul commented.  
  
“Well, then I guess I better raid the fridge and see what we’ve got that can be transformed into something worthy of my incredible talent!” Pacey said, making a face. He turned and moved to the fridge opening it and sticking his head inside. “Ahh. I’ve got it.” He pulled out two deli containers of grated hard cheese and tossed them to Frank, naming each as he did. “Romano, Parmesana.” He announced with an exaggerated Italian accent. “Left over from the lasagna I made the other night. Heavy cream, which Bessie insists on having available for coffee; I guess she’ll have to buy more.” he handed the cream to the closest set of hands, which belonged to Graham. “And, I think…” he said moving to the pantry and poking around inside, “We have…well, linguine pasta. Oh well, no one says it has to be fettuccini, right?”  
  
“What are we making?” Frank asked, looking at the items in his hands.  
  
“We, my friend, are making Alfredo sauce.”  
  
“Linguine Alfredo?” Sophie asked with a smile.  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“No, Pacey, that’s way too complicated isn’t it?” Justine said shaking her head.  
  
“No it’s not; I’ll show you. It’s so easy, you will never again buy it in a jar or the shitty packaged powder stuff, you’ll see,” he said with a flourish as he pulled open the fridge and retrieved a cube of butter and three eggs.  
  
Pacey gave out some directions as to what cookware they would need, and what other things they would be making to go with it. Once everyone was on task, he realized he had a mismatch, with Graham melting the butter for the sauce, and Sophie using one of his knives to slice tomatoes for the salad and quickly switched them before they would have to call the fire department and drive Sophie to the clinic for more stitches.  
  
“Not that you can’t brown the butter a little, actually, it adds an interesting flavor.” He smiled at Graham and handed him a head of leafy green lettuce. “Just don’t burn it.”  
  
“And how did you discover this?” Sophie asked, now carefully melting the butter in the saucepan.  
  
“How else, I forgot what I was doing and left the butter too long. Same way all great discoveries are made.” He smiled, and moved to the next person.  
  
“Here, tear the lettuce by hand, the metal makes it brown on the edges, or you can use this freaky plastic knife,” he said to Graham, holding it up and looking at it skeptically. “But as for the rest, as a carpenter, I assume you won’t slice yourself open with this,” Pacey said, handing him his finely sharpened chef’s knife,  
  
“I think I can manage the salad,” Graham said.  
  
“Okay,” Pacey said to everyone else who basically got to watch and take notes until Pacey graced them with a task, “Since this is for six we have to triple the recipe. So, you melt your ½ cup of butter over medium heat in a 2 or 3 quart sauce pan. Too big is better than too small.”  
  
Sophie snorted at this, and Pacey looked at her. She was snickering to herself as she stirred.  
  
“I was talking about pans,” he said, admonishingly. She just snickered a little more. “Anyway…” Pacey said, still looking at Sophie sideways “Once it has melted, you add three cups of heavy whipping cream.” He did so, leaning over Sophie and pouring the thick liquid into the pan, catching the last dribble off the lip of his measuring cup and sucking it off his fingertip when he was finished, then wiping his hand on a wet, lightly soapy cloth he kept on hand near the sink. “Make sure to stir it constantly so it doesn’t scorch. Add salt just to taste, start small, you can always adjust it by adding more, but, like so many things in life, you can’t go back, so don’t overdo it.”  
  
“How will we know if it’s right?” Justine asked.   
  
“Taste it. Taste everything,” he said, slicing his hands through the air. “Use a clean spoon obviously, don’t go sticking your spit in the food you’re gonna serve somebody, but…” he shrugged. “It’s not like bread, which you are a genius with, it’s not a chemistry thing, here it’s all about taste. You have to taste it as you go.”  
  
Pacey pulled out a jar of nutmeg. “Nutmeg is pretty much the same thing, but I know I like about…” he poured in into his hand until it looked right to his eye. “This much.” He dumped it in and continued to let Sophie do all the stirring.  
  
“Nutmeg? Really?” Frank said, looking into the pan, “Huh, who knew.”  
  
Pacey smiled, “Then ¾ cup each of Romano and parmesan cheese.” He let Frank dump in the right amount of each.  
  
“While we are waiting for that to cook down, we’ll let our faithful little stirrer here keep up the good work,” he patted Sophie on her head, “And we’ll boil our pasta.”  
  
“Thanks a lot,” she said wryly as she continued to stir.  
  
When the sauce was cooking down nicely, the egg yolks had been added, the pasta was boiling, and the salad awaited its final preparations, Pacey leaned back against the counter on the heels of his hands and crossed his feet at the ankles.  
  
“What you have to remember about cooking, and this is actually one of my favorite things about it, is that you use all your five senses to do it right. So pay attention to them. When you make the salad, you can hear and feel the crispness of the lettuce, you can see it,” he lifted the bowl of salad and started dishing up a plate, adding rings of red onion, slices of tomato, boiled eggs on the side, “Find the right ingredients to add color, flavor, to complement your main dish.” He set the salad down and moved on to the large pot, where the pasta was boiling. “And when you make pasta, don’t just set your timer and forget about it, you should taste it as it gets close to being done. How does it look, how does it feel in your mouth? This is what you use to tell you when it’s done.” He took a noodle, using a fork to grab it out and tossing it for a second between his thumb and forefinger, because it was too hot to hold on to. He took a bite, tasted it, and showed them the small bit of starch that was still at the center, and then made them all taste a noodle. He had to feed Sophie hers since her hands were still busy, and it landed on her nose making everyone laugh.  
  
“The sauce, same thing. Watch it, taste it all through the process, don’t just trust some words on a piece of paper to tell you what is right, find out for yourself what you like.” Everyone took a spoon and tasted it. “Mmm, needs more salt.” He took another pinch and just for fun he tossed it behind his back and into the pan, earning another laugh from his little audience. “Yeah I practiced that while I was alone,” he said laughing with them.  
  
“How does it smell? Look? Taste? Feel when you taste it. All these things come together to make a really great meal, for you and whoever you cook for, even if they don’t know what it is exactly that makes it the best meal they’ve ever had.” He smiled, gesturing with his hands as he talked, and moved to check the pasta one more time. Finding it done, he moved to the sink to drain it.  
  
  
  
After their meal, where they had gorged themselves and chatted boisterously enough to wake Alexander and maybe half the neighborhood, they piled into the living room and started a movie marathon. They had only one young couple as guests at the B&B, who showed up just after dinner and joined in, seeming to enjoy the atmosphere created by this crazy group of friends, and as Pacey sat back in one of the oversized chairs with Alex sprawled across his chest, finally back to sleep, he had to agree that it was a great atmosphere.   
  
He hadn’t done a movie night in a very long time, and found that he actually missed it. He didn’t mind that Sophie and Frank talked too much during it with in-depth story and character analysis, the fact that Glory and Jewel showed up unexpectedly, since it had been dead at the bar causing more chaos, or that Paul hogged all the popcorn, he only cared that, for the first time in a very long time, he actually felt like he wasn’t alone. He had said it earlier to Jen, but now with all these people around him including him as if he had always been a part of their group, he realized how true it actually was. He wondered if it was they who had changed or if it was himself who had finally let them in. He didn’t know, but he thought he could get used to it. ~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Hey, what are you doing here?”  
  
“What, can’t a girl skip out on a few classes and fly down to see her man?”  
  
“Oh, I’m your man now. I see. I thought you were freaking out.”  
  
“I was, but then I decided that…well, I missed you.”  
  
“I missed you too,” he said with a smile. He led her into the small kitchen and grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard and filled one with orange juice for himself and the other with chocolate milk for her.   
  
“Oh,” she said with a grateful pout, “you remembered.”  
  
“Well, I try. So tell me what’s going, on. I’m not gonna stand for you skipping out on your classes again. I expect you to pass, and not have summer school this year.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
“Because then you will come home to California for the summer.”  
  
“Hmm, summer school is looking better and better.”  
  
“But I’m in California,” he said, but his words were a little less confident, and Audrey laughed.  
  
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve decided not to regret this thing we’ve got going on, because then what would you do with yourself?”  
  
“You don’t regret it?”  
  
“What’s the point, I can’t change it. I can’t change how I feel. And maybe this is wrong of me to say, but who said Joey even needs to know about it? It may cause her to regress into her Dawson obsessing ways.” He laughed at her statement.  
  
“I still think you are blowing it all way out of proportion.”  
  
“Okay, Sweetie, whatever you say.”  
  
“So live the life of no regrets huh? How’s that working out?”  
  
“Well, not so good, actually, besides having nightmares about Joey killing me in my sleep, I keep seeing that Rich Rinaldi guy from Pacey’s work. Ugh, I hate that guy. He makes me so mad, and I totally blame him for this thing with Pacey.”  
  
“Wait,” Dawson said, frowning, “What name did you say?”  
  
“Rich Rinaldi. Pacey’s old boss and complete sleaze bag.”  
  
“Rinaldi?” Dawson repeated, his face going white. “Oh my God.” He thought he was going to be sick, as he heard pieces of a forgotten conversation float back to him. Rich as in Richard, as in Dick. Rinaldi, Remmick, Stepitech! It had been almost a month since that night. How could he have forgotten it?  
  
“Dawson, what’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna to hurl. Are you ok?”  
  
“Audrey. Oh My God. I heard your dad; he was talking to some guy on the phone. Out by the pool, and I was drunk. It was that night before you came home for Christmas. He was really mad about something, and they were talking about Pacey.”  
  
It was Audrey’s turn to blanch. She sat there in complete silence, her hands clenched in her lap. She was so stone-still that it started to freak Dawson out, until he noticed her hands shaking, her knuckles white from tightening her fists.  
  
“That Bastard! That goddamn fucking BASTARD!” she screamed suddenly, taking him by surprise, the last word shrieked at the top of her lungs as she stood up, and punctuated it by throwing her chair across the room. Dawson stood back, his eyes wide as she collapsed on the floor in tears, her whole body shaking. “How could he do this? Why? I knew it. Why didn’t I say something? How could he do this… that cock-sucking bastard, bastard, bastard.” She was whimpering the words over and over. Dawson got down onto the floor, sitting with his legs on either side of her and pulled her into his arms, smoothing a hand over her hair, willing her to relax against him.   
  
“He set Pacey up,” Dawson said coldly, his own anger beyond the boiling point. He could see his own hands shaking as he tried to give Audrey comfort.  
  
“It’s entirely my fault. I thought Pacey was just the guy to throw it all in his face, you know. The guy who wouldn’t be taken in by it, who wouldn’t let daddy scare him. But Pacey comes off a lot stronger then he is. My dad knew just where to hit him. God, then it was too late. I couldn’t tell him that. I wasn’t even sure it was anything this bad. I just thought Pacey was going to end up like him, obsessed with money. I got so caught up in myself, that I abandoned him there. I should’ve seen it Dawson. Now, he could lose his whole life, and it’s all my fault.”  
  
“You didn’t abandon him; you’re here right now, and so am I. We are going to do something about it.”  
  
“What, Dawson?” she asked, looking up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with tears that also glistened on her cheeks, ruining her make up. “What can we possibly do? I don’t even know…”  
  
“Your dad said he had something in his office, something of Pacey’s. I don’t know what it is, but he sounded scared of it.”  
  
Audrey sniffed and drew back. “If he is scared, then it must be big.”  
  
“I don’t know, but we have to find out right? I can’t let him do this to Pacey. I’m not going to let him, damn it. But first, we’ll have to make a plan.”  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
“Hey you, I wasn’t expecting to see you till later,” Glory said, leaning against the bar and smiling at him as he took a seat.   
  
“Do me a favor?” he asked, looking around.  
  
“Well, that depends. Is this favor to be done before or after everybody leaves the bar?” she asked coyly, lowering her voice, so only he would hear her.   
  
“You’re a very naughty girl. But actually, I just want to know the time.” He smiled and she gave him a dirty look. “At least for now,” he added suggestively and she laughed, turning her watch to check the time.  
  
“It is…five after midnight,” she said, looking back up at his smiling face.  
  
He smacked his driver’s license down onto the bar. “I would like a drink please.”  
  
“Oh, it’s your birthday!” she said with a huge smile, picking up the I.D. to look at it. “Hey! Yesterday was your birthday, why didn’t you tell me?” she smacked him with the telling object before tossing it down in front of him gently.  
  
“And unleash the hounds of hell to skulk about howling my name, wreaking havoc everywhere they go? I think not.”  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?” Glory asked with a frown.  
  
“Never mind,” he waved her off with his hands. “Just know it is better this way.”   
  
“Don’t ask don’t tell, got it.” She turned, nodding her head. “What do you want to drink?”  
  
“Beer is fine. Um, I like the Lowenbrau,” he said with a smile. She retrieved it for him, twisting off the cap and handing it to him.  
  
“Good choice,” she said with a smile. “Anything else, good sir?”  
  
“Are you mad?” he asked, looking her face over carefully.  
  
“No, not mad, just… It was 21. It’s a big deal; we could’ve had a great party.”  
  
“With Led Zeppelin karaoke?”  
  
“Well,” she said, “no, not if you didn’t want it.”   
  
He laughed. “We could still have a party, just you and me?” he suggested wickedly.  
  
“Oh, I see, you don’t tell me it’s your birthday, but you still want birthday sex?” As a response, he gave her his most winning smile. “Well, it’s not your birthday anymore.”  
  
“C’mon,” he pouted. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He waggled his eyebrows.  
  
She bit her lip then shook her head. “Nope, sorry, you’ve wounded me deeply and I just don’t think I can get into the mood.”  
  
“You are evil,” he said after her as she walked away to tend to another customer. She looked back at him over her shoulder with a Cheshire grin, and he felt it everywhere.   
  
“Happy Birthday.” He was kissed solidly on the head, and looked up to find Jewel standing over him.  
  
“Don’t say that too loud, it’s very dangerous, and besides, my birthday was yesterday.”  
  
“Fine then, happy day after your birthday!” They laughed together, and she got him another beer.  
  
“So, how are you?” he asked, “things going well with Trey?”  
  
“Yes, he has really come around; at first I thought it was temporary, but so far so good.” She looked up over his shoulder and smiled. “Well, I’ll see you later, ok?”  
  
“You kicking me out?” he asked, confused, but still smiling.  
  
“Not really kicking as much as sending.” And she nodded in the direction she had been looking. Glory was standing there with her coat and a huge bottle of rum.  
  
“Thanks for watching the place. Leave the trash until morning,” she added the last bit as an afterthought, once she was standing with them. “Shall we then?” she asked, looking pointedly at Pacey. He just nodded and got up to follow her, tossing his money onto the counter and winking at Jewel.  
  
  
  
“Wow, this stuff is serious.”  
  
“Yes, it is. Good though.”  
  
“Very good,” Pacey said pouring himself another glass of the dark rum. “Okay, this is a lot of food,” he said, looking down at the plates that were already in front of them. He tasted one and smiled. “I like this one more and more each time I taste it,” he said pointing to the dish in question.  
  
“The Chicken Curry Fruit Salad?”  
  
“Yeah, it sounds weird and it looks weird, but it is good.” He stole a fat grape that was smothered in the curry mixture, popped it into his mouth and made a happy face, licking the excess sauce off his fingers.  
  
“So, I should put it on the menu?”  
  
“Oh yeah, definitely. Now, what are we taking on next?” He wiped his hands on his apron and looked over the notebooks and lists she had. Innumerable pages of paper with recipes and pictures she’d been collecting for the last several years.  
  
“How many chicken dishes is that?” He held up his hand showing all five fingers. “Five? I think we should have six, and is the curry an entrée or a salad?”  
  
“Okay, then you have four chicken dishes and four salads.”   
  
“Pacey?”  
  
“Hmm?” he asked, looking up and noticing her face.   
  
“Thank you, so much, I’ve never been able to share this with anyone before…it’s really nice.” She smiled at him, revealing her dimples.  
  
“Not a problem. I’ve been feeling the same,” he said, not knowing what else to say. He once again got that feeling that she was keeping something from him, hiding it deep inside, maybe keeping it from herself as well. She turned back to her task and he watched her stirring, flour on her nose and in her hair. “Brownies,” he said finally, and she looked up. “I’m gonna try these brownies, they call for dark rum and look at what we just happen to have right here?” he said gesturing to the bottle. “I think it’s destiny.” He tossed back the contents of his glass and filled it up again. “Unless I drink it all first.”  
  
“Pacey, that’s pretty mean stuff, be careful.”  
  
“Kieffer, I am a sailor, I can handle my rum.”  
  
That is how he ended up sprawled out on her living room floor an hour later.  
  
“You know what I think is really cool?” he asked, his words slightly slurred. “All this work you have done on this restaurant. It’s like nothing right now, but inside of you, it’s already this amazing place. I like that.”  
  
“See it and you can be it,” she said. “Besides, you helped with some of it. You helped with a lot of it.”  
  
“I did, didn’t I? So now when you are a big famous chef with a big famous restaurant, I’ll be able to say I played a part.” He gestured that his part would be very small with his fingers squinting at the space he made and then trying to see how small he could make it before his fingers touched. Her voice interrupted his process.  
  
“You designed the entire look for the inside. I was really stumped about what I wanted. You came up with some great ideas.”  
  
“Shhh, don’t tell anybody about that. It’ll ruin my reputation.”  
  
“Mmm,” she sighed, leaning back against the bottom of her couch, legs outstretched, holding the photo out in front of her. “It’s gonna be amazing.”  
  
“You are amazing.” Pacey said, rolling his head back a little so he could look at her behind him. Or was it above him? He wasn’t sure because he was lying down. He only knew that all he could see were her feet.  
  
“Thanks,” she said cheekily in response to his comment, tipping her head from side to side, still looking at her picture.  
  
“Marry me.”  
  
“What did you say?” she asked, looking up sharply. She crawled over and looked down at him with a frown, her hair falling around them like a curtain. He smiled and looked back at her with those big blue eyes.  
  
“You heard me. Let’s get hitched. You and me, we’ll raise a big ass family in this quaint little, homey American town.”  
  
“Ok, no more rum for you,” she said, snatching it from his fingers and rolling to lay next to him, their heads side by side and their bodies shooting out in opposite directions.  
  
“C’mon. I’m cute, let’s get married.”  
  
She gave him a look, and then said slowly, “Well, we already know the sex is good.”  
  
“Damn straight.”  
  
“And we would have pretty cute kids together.”  
  
“And they would be endowed with their father’s undeniable charm.”  
  
“They would be well fed, that’s for sure,” she commented, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.  
  
“Fat and happy little hellions.” Pacey said with a wide smile.  
  
“And we would have to have a ton of them, I can’t think of anything better then torturing this town with an entire brood of Witter boys,” Glory said, smiling too.  
  
“Exactly, see? We see eye to eye here.” He gestured from himself to her and back to emphasize this.  
  
“There’s just one problem with this plan of yours.”  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“You don’t love me.”  
  
“Aaahhh, Love, shmuv, who needs it?” He made a ppffftt sound to go with the statement.  
  
“Me, I need love.”  
  
That took a moment of thinking on his part, and then he frowned. “Are you trying to tell me something here, Kieffer?”  
  
“No, I just find it hard to believe that you don’t want it, too.” She looked at him with a knowing gaze.  
  
“Well, I don’t. I’ve already been there and let me tell you, love sucks.”  
  
“You’re in love?”   
  
“I am, I am one hundred percent, totally and completely, head over heels in love with Miss Josephine Potter. I tell you, she is THE one. She is. I love her so much. I have been in love with her for so long; I tried not to be, but here I am, and you know what? I don’t like it. I don’t want to be in love with her anymore.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“She is in my head all the time. Always. She’s so annoying. I love her so damn much.”   
  
“You’ve mentioned that.”  
  
“You know what she said to me?” He rolled over and looked at her. She shook her head. “She said that being with me doesn’t feel right. Now I ask you, what kind of fucked up crap is that? I mean, I knew the universe had it out for me, but this? This is too much. How can her being with me feel wrong when my being with her feels so right, more right then breathing. Damn it. I don’t want to feel this way any more.”  
  
“Maybe she lied,” Glory said, propped up on her elbow now, watching him.  
  
“She did,” he said seriously. “She did lie. She lied to me. Again. She said she was too tired to come over. She should have just told me, I’da understood. But she always lies, she’s so worried about hurting other people’s feelings that she lies, but then it just ends up making everything worse.” He laughed, “God, she is so annoying; you want to know what my clearest memory of Joey is?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?” she asked with a smile, and then rolled her eyes when he started talking.  
  
“She was dressed in this white dress, all shiny and glowy…is that a word?...anyway, and she had her hair up in these pig tail thingies and I remember thinking she looked like an angel, which couldn’t be further from what she really was, let me tell you. I wanted to touch her dress and she said “Witter! If you get so much as one speck of dirt on this dress, so help me I’ll take off your hand.”  
  
“She said all that? How old were you?”  
  
“I don’t know 5, 6, I’m drunk off my ass here don’t ask me hard questions!” he said with utter seriousness. “Now where was I? Oh right, then in the car ride over, she held my hand,” He looked at his hand holding it up in front of him. “Because I had washed it so I wouldn’t mess up her dress. Then Dawson started singing- “Joey and Pacey sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” so we stopped and started yelling at each other. ‘Cause he’s her soul mate, not me.”  
  
“Pacey, Sweetheart, you are so drunk.”  
  
He sighed, “Yeah.” He let his hands come to rest on his chest.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs.”  
  
“Ooo, she wants to go upstairs.”  
  
“And sleep.” She pulled him to his feet.  
  
“Oh is that all?” he said disappointedly as they stumbled together up the stairs.   
  
“You go on and on, rambling about another woman and then think I’m gonna jump in the sack with you?” she asked with a laugh.  
  
Pacey was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. Oh, I’m so, so sorry.”  
  
“It’s no big deal,” she said hefting him onto the bed. “You’re too drunk to have sex anyhow.” She moved to pull off his shoes.  
  
He lifted his head to look at her. “Hey, I am the energizer freaking bunny when I’m drunk.”  
  
“Sleep it off, Lover Boy,” she said, patting his leg. “Lay down your sweet head and dream about Joey.”  
  
“I always do anyway, damn it. Woman flies all the way to Paris and she still won’t fricken leave me alone,” he mumbled, tossing an arm over his tired eyes.  
  
“You know Pacey,” she said, sitting down next to him on the bed. “There’s nothing wrong with loving just one person all your life, even if they don’t love you back.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No, and you know what else?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with getting over them either. Just give yourself, and her, time. See what happens.”  
  
“Time, huh? How much time?”  
  
“Lots of time.”  
  
“Yeah, I figured it was something like that.”  
  
“Just don’t settle,” she said firmly, looking down into his eyes with a look that almost sobered him with its intensity. “Don’t ever settle, for anything else than what you really want. Do you understand? Do what is right for you, but don’t ever give up and don’t ever settle. It never works, Pacey, it never works when you settle. It never works,” she said, laying down next to him and putting her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her with a worried expression and noticed she was crying.   
  
“Okay, I won’t settle.” He said still so drunk he could barely make his mouth move. “I swear to God I won’t settle, just please don’t cry.”


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

 

 _Do I expect to change, the past I hold inside_ _  
 _With all the words I say, repeating over in my mind_  
 _Some things you can't erase, no matter how hard you try_  
 _An exit to escape, is all there is left to find…__  
Echo, Trapt  
  
  
  
“Let’s go there, Dad!” Dawson called, pointing his finger from the backseat of his dad’s car; his other hand keeping the shoulder strap of the seatbelt out of his face.  
  
“The junkyard?” Mitch asked, “You wanna go to the junkyard?”  
  
“Yeah, Dad! Pleeeeezzzzzz! Please, please, please…”  
  
“Okay, okay, enough already. If you really want to, I don’t see a problem with it.”  
  
Mitch turned into the lot, parked, and climbed out. He made his way around the car and opened the door for Dawson, who ran immediately to the gate and started hopping up and down, trying to get a peek at what was inside.  
  
“Hey, Ted,” Mitch called out, seeing the owner working off to the side of the main building. “Mind if we have a look around?”  
  
“Of course not,” the shorter and somewhat plumper, man answered as he re-zipped his jacket. “Kinda cold to be out there, but if that’s what you want, then by all means.” He hit the button and the electronic gate slowly swung back, accompanied by a loud groaning sound that made Dawson think of an enormous dinosaur, like in Jurassic Park. He ran and jumped up, grasping the chain link with his cold fingers and letting it take him with it.  
  
“Dawson, get down from there, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he heard his dad call, but he had already spotted part of what he was looking for, and jumped down hurrying off in that direction. He knelt down, almost reverently, at his found item and smiled. This was a treasure hunt, and he’d found his first piece. He scooped up the chrome handlebars and looked them over. They were in good shape except there was only one grip, and it was torn. He frowned.  
  
“What do you think you’re doing, just taking off like that, Dawson?” Mitch said, a little out of breath from running after his son in the cold. “Whatcha got there?”  
  
“Handlebars.”  
  
“Mm hmm, for a bike. Why?”  
  
“I wanna get Pacey a new bike for his birthday.”  
  
“Ah,” Mitch said. “That’s a pretty expensive present, Dawson, I don’t know… maybe we should let his parents get one for him.”  
  
“I don’t think they will, Dad.”  
  
“Dawson…”  
  
“Pacey made a whole fishing pole, all by himself, and he got the parts here at the junkyard,” Dawson said, looking up at his dad with his big hazel eyes, his cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. “I thought if I could find all the parts, and if you would help me, then I could make him one. And it wouldn’t be so expensive. He would freak out Dad! C’mon. Please!”  
  
Mitch laughed. “Okay, well then we need to get to work! Looks like you already found a good set of handlebars.”  
  
“Yeah but the grips are bad.”  
  
“Well, those we can buy at the store for pretty cheap, so let’s take those, the hard part will be to find some rims that aren’t bent, and we’ll need a good straight body.”  
  
“Okay. Maybe nobody’s taken any in awhile, it being winter and everything.”  
  
Mitch laughed at the serious look on his son’s face. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Dawson cried out in pain as the screwdriver slipped, gouging into his hand and drawing blood. He dropped the tool instantly and, one hand seeking comfort for the other, instinctively grabbed his wrist, squeezing it as if it would stop the blood.  
  
His dad was at his side quickly, wrapping a clean rag around the small wound. “The price a man pays for working with his hands,” Mitch said, tending the injury with a dinosaur band-aid. “Just consider it a battle wound son.” Dawson smiled at that thought, and it helped him ignore the pain. A battle wound sounded very heroic.  
  
It wasn’t such a bad thing really, he thought, to hurt yourself while making something really cool for your best friend. He wondered if Pacey was getting suspicious. He knew that he was acting funny, but he was just so excited and it was really hard to keep Pacey out of the shed. He was always wanting to look at the boat parts.  
  
“What’re you doing?” came a familiar voice from the doorway. He looked up to find Joey standing there, leaning against the frame, her arms crossed.  
  
“Shhh!” he said, waving with his hand, making his father chuckle. “Get in here!”  
  
“What?” Joey laughed, looking behind her, “Are we hiding from the Fratelli brothers?”  
  
“No, we are making Pacey’s birthday present,” he said quietly and she hurried over and knelt down on the other side of the bike, facing him.  
  
“You are making Pacey a bike?” she asked in awe, then more skeptically. “Dawson, do you know what you are doing? I mean, not that I care if Pacey crashes in a blaze of glory or anything, but it would be gross to have his blood all over the pavement.” She looked the bike over. “Let me help?”  
  
“Okay, then it can be a present from both of us,” Dawson said and Joey gave him a big smile and nodded. “We are going to paint it this really cool metallic brown.” He showed her the can.  
  
“I thought Pacey liked blue?”  
  
“He does, but he likes brown too, and his sisters hate brown. Girl bikes are never brown,” Dawson said with authority.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Then, we are going to put his initials right under here, so he won’t have to scratch them in himself and this bike will be just his.”  
  
Joey smiled again, “He’ll like that.”  
  
“Yeah, I hope so.”  
  
“He will, Dawson. You’re a good friend.”  
  
“You’re not mad I only got you a thesaurus for your birthday?”  
  
“No! Are you kidding? I love that thing. I like finding big words to use, and my old one was getting obliterated by so much use.”  
  
“Do you really think he’ll like it?”  
  
“Yes, Dawson, now stop being so dramatic. What do we need to do next?”  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Dawson hid with Joey just inside the entrance to his living room, trying desperately to contain their giggles as they heard footsteps crossing the porch.  
  
“He’s here,” Joey squealed, quietly squeezing Dawson’s arm.  
  
The door opened and they jumped out, singing “Happy Birthday”, laughing as Pacey’s eyes grew wide with surprise, his smile soon following.  
  
“And a pinch to go an inch. . .”  
  
“And a sock to grow a block.”  
  
“Ow!” Pacey rubbed his arm where Joey had socked him. She ignored him and used her fingers to make his lips turn up in a smile.  
  
“And a smile to grow a mile.”  
  
“Maybe you guys should skip that one. He’s already growing like a weed.” Mitch said coming into the entryway smiling, followed by Gale.  
  
“Happy day late birthday, Sweetie,” she said giving him a quick hug and he grinned.  
  
“Thanks,” Pacey said, smiling up at Dawson’s parents.  
  
“C’mon! We made you a cake.”  
  
“Did Joey help? Cuz if she did, I don’t know if I want to eat it.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Mom helped us, it’s edible.”  
  
“I dunno. She hates me.”  
  
“My mom?” Dawson asked.  
  
“You’re right to be afraid, Dirt bag, I put cyanide in the frosting,” Joey said, then added primly, as she strode passed them. “It’s my secret ingredient.”   
  
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Pacey responded, “you are evil incarnate.”   
  
“Just stop it you guys,” Dawson said, rolling his eyes at his two fighting friends. He reached out and grabbed Pacey’s hand, pulling him, one yank with each word, “And come…into… the… kitchen.”  
  
“Okay, okay, just let me keep my arm!” Pacey cried.   
  
“Surprise!” Dawson yelled, opening his arms wide as he displayed his gift. He heard the laughter falter behind him and turned to see Pacey’s reaction, thrilled when he saw the look of utter shock and surprise on his face. He’d thought Pacey might’ve figured it out.   
  
Pacey reached toward the bike, but didn’t move, and his mouth worked, but no words came out.  
  
“Pacey, it’s a bike!” Joey cried, jumping up and down, breaking the spell. She grabbed his arm and kept jumping. “Don’t just stand there, Dummy! It’s a bike!”  
  
Pacey snapped out of his shock and pushed at her. “I know it’s a bike, Josephine!” he said glaring at her, then turning back to look in awe at the bike once more.  
  
She shoved him back, tipping him only slightly off his feet. “Don’t call me Josephine,” she almost growled between clenched teeth. Pacey ignored her and moved toward the bike.   
  
Dawson held his breath as Pacey placed his hand gingerly on the seat, his eyes growing wide when his skin came in contact with it, and Dawson knew he’d half expected it to disappear.  
  
“Holy shit!” Pacey whispered, then grimaced, looking up at the Leerys with wide eyes. “Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Leery.”  
  
“It’s alright, sweetheart, but please watch your language a little better from now on.” Gale said with a finality and firmness that still managed to be warm.   
  
“I won’t say it again,” he told them, running his hand over the surface of the bike.   
  
Dawson squeezed his hands together so tight they were turning white, trying to contain his happiness, to not jump around and act crazy, because his mom wouldn’t like it.  
  
“Thanks, Bro,” Pacey said, finally looking up at him with an unstable smile. “Thank you so much Mr. and Mrs. Leery, it’s so great. I don’t think Pop will let me keep it though, it’s too expensive.”  
  
“Nonsense,” Mitch said. “It wasn’t expensive at all. We built it out of spare parts. Got a great deal. I’ll talk to your dad, Pace. You’ll get to keep it.”  
  
“Dawson built it himself,” Joey piped up proudly.  
  
“Joey helped paint it,” Dawson said. Pacey turned and smiled at Joey. Dawson hoped they would stop fighting so much all the time so they could all be friends. “Dad did most of it; Pacey, but I helped a lot.”  
  
Pacey sniffed. “It’s a really cool bike, D. Thanks. It’s the best present I ever got.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Pace.”   
  
“May I please use the bathroom?” Pacey asked. Gale nodded and pointed the way even though Pacey knew it like his own home.  
  
Dawson watched him leave the room and hurried over to help his mom with the cake. He climbed up onto a stool next to the one Joey had already occupied.  
  
“Do you think he really liked it, Mom?” he asked, looking at her with a slight frown of worry.  
  
“Oh, Honey, I think he more than liked it,” she replied, casting a knowing look over her shoulder at Mitch.  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
Pacey bounced up and down on the seat of the bike and Dawson smiled.  
  
“It works!” he said, watching his friend’s smile grow wider.  
  
“Yes it does. This is so cool. And now that summer is here, we can really put it to the test,” Pacey said.  
  
“This makes me think we really could build that fort after all. I made that bike, you and I together; we could make the most awesome fort ever!”  
  
“Yeah, we could,” Pacey said, hopping off his bike and untying his sleeping bag from the handlebars. “And we are going to build it right here, in our favorite camping spot.”   
  
“These trees are perfect. I’ve already got a great collection of boards at home, plus the ones you brought over, I think we have enough.”  
  
“School’s out next week, we can start on it then.”  
  
Both boys smiled and nodded as they began to gather up the wood for their campfire. They weren’t supposed to have one, but they always did anyway, and they were always really careful. Once there was a nice pile of hot coals nestled in their little rock bordered fire pit, they pulled out their food, hot dogs, potato chips, and s’mores makings. They decided on dessert first.  
  
“Hey, look what I brought,” Pacey said, holding out his hand to Dawson. He peeked inside to find a small pocketknife.  
  
“Where did you get that?”  
  
“I stole it from, Doug.”  
  
“He’s gonna be mad.” Dawson said with a look of worry.  
  
Pacey shrugged. “What do I care? He hates me anyway.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Pacey.”  
  
“That’s ok, D. I’ve got you, you’re my brother.”  
  
Dawson’s face lit up with a smile. “Yeah, and you’re mine. We should make it official!”  
  
Pacey frowned. “How do we do that?” he asked. “You think your parents would adopt me?” he asked. Dawson looked at him. Pacey couldn’t really want to leave his family, he thought. Even though Doug and his dad weren’t always nice, it was a big family and there was always lots going on at their house. His house was quiet and boring, and his mom and dad were always kissing on each other all the time, it was gross. It was disgusting, he thought, trying out the word Joey had used the other day.  
  
“No, I don’t think they could adopt you, but I was thinking, brothers have the same blood, and that’s the only thing that keeps us from really being brothers. We could be blood brothers.”  
  
“How?” Pacey asked with excitement tingeing his young voice.  
  
“I saw it in a movie; we cut our hands and then we put them together and our blood mixes all together.” Dawson said, leaning forward animatedly. He had always wanted a brother and now Pacey was his brother. How cool was that?  
  
“And you would want to do that with me?” Pacey asked.  
  
“Yeah, Pacey, you’re my best friend ever. This way we will always be friends, ‘cause we’ll be real brothers.”  
  
“Okay, cool,” Pacey said, sitting forward like his friend. He handed Dawson a s’more and smiled. They munched quietly for a while, then Pacey looked over at him, his eyes blue and green with the firelight dancing in them. “You are my best friend, too, Dawson,” he said, grinning around the graham cracker in his mouth.  
  
Dawson smiled broadly and a piece of cracker fell out of his mouth and they both started laughing.  
  
“So what should we do first?” Dawson asked, once the giggles were under control.  
  
“I think we should make a pact,” Pacey said, his face very serious as he looked off into the woods thoughtfully. Dawson noticed the scar on his cheek and he remembered the accident last summer. He was so glad he had made the bike for Pacey. He hoped he never crashed again. All that blood in a movie was funny, but for real? It was too scary.  
  
“A pact?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah, like a code. A code of loyalty.”  
  
“Ok,” Dawson said, “lets do it. A code of loyalty that we will always be brothers.” And he stood up very straight and saluted Pacey. His best friend stood up and saluted him back.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
 _January 18th, 2004…_  
  
  
  
“Dawson! Psst.” Dawson looked up at Audrey’s whispered scream to see her waving at him. “Get up here behind the bushes like we planned.”  
  
He hurried up, mentally chastising himself for being lost in thought. “Sorry,” he whispered.  
  
“Shh.” She glared at him then turned around, smiling dazzlingly as the door opened and Dawson quickly ducked down behind the bush so he wouldn’t be seen. “Hello, Shnookums. How you doin?” she said to the staunch man who appeared in the doorway.  
  
“Good evening, Miss Audrey, this way please,” the butler said, standing aside to allow her entrance.   
  
“Wow, I haven’t been here in so long,” she said, moving very slowly into the room, but not quite far enough for him to close the door.  
  
“You were just here at Christmastime, Miss.”  
  
“But the chandelier is different.”  
  
“No, Miss I assure you it is the same.”  
  
“Are you sure? I know something is different, Carlton; it just doesn’t look the same. What about over there?” she said, pointing to the large fireplace that dominated one wall of the foyer. “Isn’t that… thingy… up there different…or something?”  
  
Carlton moved toward the fireplace to look, humoring his mistress as all good servants do. He didn’t see her motioning frantically to Dawson, who quickly slipped inside and up the stairs. Audrey was furtively glancing in that direction when her mother’s voice broke through the atmosphere of the room.  
  
“Carlton, I feel a draft,” Mrs. Liddell was saying. She stopped, looked at her daughter, and smiled. Audrey was dressed to the nines in a form-fitting dress that flattered her curvy figure. Wisps of material flitted about her legs as she moved, giving a peek-a-boo sighting of a thigh every now and then, and the sleeves were barely there, just a flit of blue chiffon, that graced the very top of each shoulder. “Audrey dear, hello,” Her mother said, moving past her to close the front door, and giving Carlton a disapproving look. “You look wonderful. I’m so glad you decided to come up to the main house tonight. I really do miss you terribly. Why we hardly saw you at Christmas. You were spending all your time with that new boyfriend of yours. Although I have to admit, I can’t blame you. He’s a handsome young man, and a director!”  
  
“I’m sorry about Christmas, Mother, but then again I didn’t see much of you at Thanksgiving either did I?” Mrs. Liddell was speechless to this comment, and ducked her head ever so slightly.   
  
“Come down to the parlor. I know your father is dying to see you.”  
  
“Dying? Do you promise?” she asked, cutting her eyes in that direction then plastering on a smile when her mother turned to look at her in shock. “It’s just a joke, Mummy Dear; you’re the one who started with the high drama. You said he was dying.”  
  
“It’s an expression Audrey. Something I would expect you to be learning at the expensive college of yours.”  
  
“Oh mother, aren’t you a dear,” she said with a tone that was all vinegar. Her mother’s back stiffened abruptly and she turned away, striding into the parlor.  
  
“Your daughter has arrived,” she announced and plopped down in her usual chair and grabbed a brandy off the table beside her. Audrey looked at that glass, the fog of condensation on the side, the golden liquid circling in gentle waves. She licked her lips and turned away. No.   
  
“Audrey, Sweetheart, Angel, how I’ve missed you.”  
  
In her current state of mind, his voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard and she stiffened, shuddering in response to it. Luckily, he wasn’t watching. “Hello, Daddy. I’ve missed you too,” she said in a sickeningly sweet tone, plastering on a smile as she bent to kiss his cheek. “How much longer till dinner?”  
  
“Only about half an hour, I believe. Kay?”  
  
“Whatever,” the other woman bit, childishly refusing to look at her daughter.  
  
“Well, Daddy, I’m very glad, because I have prepared a very special gift for you. But I want it to be for everybody. So can we get all the servants in here? Most of them have known me since I was little; besides, this performance deserves a proper audience.”  
  
“Well, that sounds very nice, Precious. Carlton? Could you please gather the entire staff into the drawing room for me? Thank you.”   
  
As Carlton nodded and bowed from the room, Audrey cast her eyes to the ceiling, and chewed her lip.   
  
God, if you are out there and I really do think that you are, somewhere, please, please help Dawson find what he is looking for. He’s not always the most observant guy, and he definitely needs it. “Thank you,” she mouthed, even as she followed her parents across the hall to the drawing room. It was only a second in time, but she hoped like hell that it worked.  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
Dawson shoved his hands through his hair and looked around the darkened office. It was just what he’d expected really, large dark furniture, leather and dark walnut everywhere with hordes of brass and gold accents. There was even a globe! Dawson took a deep breath; what was he doing here? He wasn’t James freaking Bond; he wasn’t observant or stealthy, hell, half the time he didn’t even think he was that smart. Obviously, or else why would he be lurking around the office of a very rich and powerful man, while Audrey was downstairs creating a diversion, when he didn’t even know what he was looking for?  
  
He took a deep, steadying breath and let his hands rest on his hips as he looked around the room; his eyes fell on the desk and stopped. Whatever it was, it was probably there. That made the most sense, so he moved as quietly as he could across the room, stubbing his toe on a chair and tripping, he hopped around for a moment, holding the injured appendage with one hand, while pressing the heel of the other into his mouth to keep from crying out. Once the pain was sufficiently subsided, he hurried over to the desk.  
  
The first thing he noticed was that there were two laptops. It didn’t seem right to him, even though his mind was telling him that a wealthy man like Mr. Liddell could easily have two of them, or maybe one belonged to Audrey’s mom. There were plenty of explanations for their existence, but as he looked through the paperwork that littered the wide desktop, his mind kept coming back to those two machines.  
  
One of the computers was positioned at the head of the desk as if it were set up for quick access; the other was sitting on the corner negligently. Dawson looked at the second machine, only the corner of it illuminated by the moonlight coming in from the window. It was a model he recognized, nice, but not nearly the power that a man with inexhaustible funds would choose. More like one an average guy might choose. Instinctively, he reached out for it, sliding his hand under the smooth surface so he could lift it. His fingertips brushed over something rough, something engraved into the surface of the hard cover and he felt a chill run down his spine as he ran his fingertips over it again. Maybe it was only his imagination that he could make out the small symbols, he didn’t know, but it didn’t make him any less sure. He picked it up and turned it over, letting the soft gray moonlight fall over the familiar markings. They were small and very carefully carved in, shallow and discreet, but they were obvious to him.   
  
P J W.


	14. Chapter 14

_If you wanna be somebody else,_ _  
 _If you’re tired of loosing battles with yourself_  
 _If you wanna be somebody else, change your mind…__  
  
Sister Hazel  
  
  
  
“Oh my God, this is exciting!” Audrey said as she entered his room. “I can’t believe we just did that! I’ve always wanted to pull one over on my parents.”  
  
Dawson gave her a questioning look. “Oh alright, I do that all the time, I just never thought they’d deserve it. Dinner was hell, waiting to get out of there so I could come see you, wondering if you were gonna get caught any second. Having to look in my Dad’s face and not jump up and start slapping him,” she rambled, flopping onto the bed next to him. “So what did you find?”  
  
“Pacey’s laptop.”  
  
“Wow.” Her face became serious and she looked at him. “I still can’t believe it. Dad set him up, from the beginning; now Pacey could go to jail for the rest of his life and it’s my fault.”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Audrey; don’t blame yourself for what your Dad did. It makes him the bad guy, not you.” He looked up at her meaningfully. “In fact, you’re amazing, I can’t believe you are willing to go against your dad, and possibly incriminate him to help a friend.”  
  
“An innocent friend,” she said, looking down and picking at the comforter. “I could never live with myself if anything happened to Pacey because of me.” She looked back up at him, her blue eyes glistening with tears. “I just wanted to show him LA, I never wanted him to regret it for the rest of his life!” Her words broke on a sob as she covered her face with her hands.  
  
“Come here,” he said, shifting on the bed so he could pull her into his arms. “He’s not gonna regret it, I promise you, okay. We are going to help him.”  
  
She nodded and sniffed, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. “Right, okay, so is there anything on this thing that can help Pacey?”  
  
Dawson sighed, “I don’t know, but there must be something because it’s encrypted.”  
  
“So, we’ll send it to the attorneys, they can get someone to crack it.”  
  
“But what if whatever is inside here actually makes it worse for Pacey?” Dawson said, pushing his fingers through his hair nervously.  
  
“Mmm, hadn’t thought of that. You think he might be guilty?” she asked, frowning up at him, disbelieving.  
  
“No, no way. But… who knows what all he got tangled up in that he didn’t even understand. I mean,” Dawson ran a hand over the surface of the computer and then plopped it on the mattress, “If there is anything incriminating in here, I’d rather toss it into the ocean.”  
  
“Hmm, I wonder why daddy didn’t do that.”  
  
“My guess is, he wanted to be able to plant it, either clean, or with his own version of the facts on it, but hopefully he couldn’t get a guy out here fast enough, which could mean,” Dawson snapped his fingers, “He might have encrypted this himself…” He started looking a little bit happier. “So, maybe it’s not very good, and who do we know that we can trust, who would put Pacey first, and knows enough about computers to maybe break it?”  
  
Audrey just shrugged and shook her head.  
  
He giggled, and then said, “God, I don’t know why I’m laughing, I need to get this thing out of here, and I don’t even want to think about what your dad is gonna do when he finds out it’s gone. I’m just lucky he hasn’t remembered my connection to Pacey.”  
  
“I know!” Audrey popped up, “I read this in a book. We break a basement window. On the west side, behind the bushes. When they finally notice it, they’ll think someone broke in.”  
  
“And stole this laptop, when your dad is worth a lot more money?”  
  
“Oh yeah, guess not huh?”  
  
“I think I just need to get out of here.” He looked at his watch, “10 pm makes it what, one am over there?”  
  
“Over where?”  
  
“The east coast, Audrey, you know, that place where you live?”  
  
“Jeez, don’t be snappy, I was just making sure.”  
  
“Okay, I say we go to sleep,” he kissed her forehead, “And tomorrow, I have a call to make, then we get the hell out of Dodge.” Audrey giggled at his last line, but he ignored it. “I’ll go see if I can stay with Delsie, or Burke, you go home and find Pacey; Mom said he needs compurgators, and I’m sure the more the better.”  
  
“Why aren’t you going?” she asked with a frown.  
  
“Pacey doesn’t want me speaking on his behalf.”  
  
“What are you talking about, he needs you.”  
  
“Honestly, Audrey, I don’t know if I would have anything good to say,” he shrugged.  
  
“You are so full of shit!” Audrey said, all but leaping off the bed and turning on him. “Come on. You are lying to everyone including yourself.”  
  
“What exactly is it you want me to admit here Audrey?” he demanded, frowning at her.  
  
“That you love him! You love him,” she repeated when he looked shocked, “And despite everything, you realized that he is still your best friend, your brother practically, and in one way or another, you want him in your life!” she said emphatically, and Dawson hung his head in frustration.  
  
“My best friend? My brother? The guy has been out of my life for years…” he started looking up at her, but she held up her hand to stop him.  
  
“A best friend, Dawson, isn’t always that person who knows every little detail of your life, or what’s going on at this very moment, a best friend can be someone who, no matter what, no matter where they are or where you are, or what has passed between you, they are there for you. They know exactly who you are at heart, all the good, and all the bad and… they just…love you anyway!” The last statement was made with a sweep of her hand, smacking it hard on her hip for emphasis before storming out of the room.   
  
Dawson fell back on the bed, wiping his hands over his face as her words reverberated through his mind.   
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Ok, sooo, where were we?”  
  
“Nipples.”  
  
“Ah yes, the nipples. Nipples are good. I like nipples.”  
  
“You know, somehow I could tell that about you.”  
  
“Could you now?”  
  
“Of course they do…mmmm, wow. Seem to be very popular.”  
  
“You like that, do ya?”  
  
“Oh yeah, mmmm, very much.”  
  
“So, the nipples are popular, you say?”  
  
“Oh yes, especially mine.”  
  
“And why is that, do you think?”  
  
“Because mine are extra…Oh. My. God…extra stiff.”  
  
“It’s that good?”  
  
“Best I’ve ever had. Sweet Jesus...hey, watch your fingers!”  
  
“What, can’t a man taste his own handiwork?”  
  
“No, now get back to what you are supposed to be doing.”  
  
“Ok, slave driver, where do I start?”  
  
“Ok, two parts Butterscotch Schnapps, one part with Irish Cream,” Glory said, licking the chocolate frosting from her fingers. “My God this is so damn good.” He watched her finger disappear inside her mouth with rich dark frosting on it and come out clean  
  
“You know, I’m starting to get jealous of that cake, I may not make it anymore,” he said, and then, “There she is.” He gestured toward the shot glass and the drink he’d just poured, with a flourish.  
  
“Excellent,” she took it, shot it back, exposing for a moment the long column of her throat, and then smiled at him. “Very good, congratulations, you just made a Buttery Nipple Shooter.”  
  
“You drank it!”  
  
“Of course, I had to quality test it.”  
  
“So, you’re just gonna crack the whip, drink my alcohol.” She gave him a look. “Okay, your alcohol, but my cake, and I just have to keep on mixing?” he asked, quickly wiping up any spilled drops from the dark marble countertop.   
  
“Mmm hmm.” She leaned back against the other counter, looking at him.  
  
“I hardly think that’s fair.”  
  
“This time make an extra, and then you can quality test, too. Now on to the next…”  
  
“Which is?” he asked, setting up new glasses, one for himself this time.  
  
“Pierced Nipple.”  
  
“Yikes! Ok, bring it on,” he said, eagerly shaking his hands out like a nervous ball player. She laughed.  
  
“Layer it. One part Butterscotch schnapps, one part Irish Cream…” She pointed with her index finger how high on the glass it should be.  
  
“This sounds familiar…”   
  
“Shut up… and one part Jagermeister.”   
  
“Ahh, the piercing,” he commented and then displayed the finished drinks with a wave of his hand. She took one, leaving one for him.  
  
“Slam it,” she did, and he followed suit.  
  
“What are you two doing? I thought we were going to make Chicken Parmesan, not get sloshed,” Sophie said, coming into the kitchen loaded down with some pans and a large package of chicken breasts. Pacey hurried to help her before she dropped something.  
  
“I’m just teaching Pace some drinks because he starts bartending tomorrow,” Glory said, wiping her mouth and setting the glass down.  
  
“For the last three nights of my life as a free man. I’m hoping for good tips.”  
  
“Pacey-Face, be positive!” Sophie warned, as she began to set up cooking stations along Glory’s generous countertop.  
  
“That’s right. I need you to come back. Don’t make me have to find another bartender!” Glory said, giving him a quick pat and then rubbing his back gently for just a moment as a show of comfort.  
  
“Oooh, shots!” Graham said, following his wife into the kitchen empty-handed. “What are we doing here?”  
  
“Nipples,” Pacey said.  
  
“My favorite,” Graham said lecherously.  
  
“I told you they were popular.”  
  
“What do ya say to a body shot, my sweet wife?” He turned to his wife waggling his eyebrows and giving her a wolfish grin, his green eyes dancing.  
  
“I don’t think so, Buster!” She avoided his grabby hands. “There’s a bunch of people coming over in an hour, and we need to cook!” Sophie said, shaking her head and poking the end of his nose gently.  
  
“But you are showing all this nice cleavage in this shirt you are wearing,” Graham said, using a finger to pull on Sophie’s neck line and look inside. She smacked him, and everyone laughed.  
  
“No, violence in the kitchen, you might get blood on the cake,” Pacey called out, as he finished clearing up the bottles of liquor they were using.  
  
“Ask Glo if we can bring some home with us,” Sophie said, before turning to steal a bite of the aforementioned cake. Graham looked expectantly at Glory who laughed and nodded, then to Pacey who grinned widely and handed over the butterscotch schnapps.  
  
“Ooo, butterscotch.”  
  
“Go watch the kids!” Sophie ordered, turning him around and smacking his ass as he left the room. “Pacey, are you teaching cooking here or what?” she asked with exasperation.  
  
Pacey brought his hand to his chest. “I wasn’t… he…” She just kept looking at him. “I thought your sister was coming,” he said finally, giving up on self-defense.  
  
Her huff deflated instantly and she plopped down on one of the stools. “Okay, we’ll wait, but she and Trey have been so lovey-dovey lately, she probably won’t even show up.”  
  
“So things are still good with them. Trey is…”  
  
“Over his issues? Not completely, but at least now he is trying to be. The thought of losing Jewel permanently was a bit of a wake up call to the boy.”  
  
“Well, good, she deserves it.” Pacey said, reaching into Glory’s cabinets and pulling out the bowls they would need.  
  
“Aren’t Frank and Justine coming, too?” Glory asked still savoring her chocolate cake bite by bite.  
  
“I think so. We will have a nice little crowd.”  
  
“Sounds like fun,” Pacey said, setting the bowls in a neat row, placing one in each of the stations that Sophie was setting up, and then tying a plain white cotton apron around his waist. “I hope you brought protection, ‘cause you know I like it when it’s messy,” he said with a puckish look in his storm blue eyes.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
He found her on the balcony outside of her bedroom, smoking a cigarette, while Damien Rice’s crooning filled up the air around her with some haunting melody. He hadn’t really needed to look, it hadn’t taken him long to learn that this is where she went after a particularly long day.  
  
“Hey, everyone’s gone, I’m gonna get started on the dishes.”  
  
“Mmm, I’ll come help.”  
  
“It’s ok. I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, though he wished she would tell him what she thought about out here in the cold with her music. Her brooding music, she called it, and said everybody needed some.   
  
He left her and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where he started rinsing the dishes for the dishwasher, making up a silly song as he went. “The Dish Who Ran Away with the Spoon and What Happened After”, he called it. It was starting to sound a little familiar. He didn’t hear her come into the kitchen, didn’t know she was there until he heard her voice.  
  
“So, there is something I want to know.”  
  
“Yes?” he asked, turning to look at her over his shoulder, then returning his attention to the dishes.  
  
“How is it that a man,” she slipped up behind him and ran her hands down his arms to his wrists and lifted his hands from the water, holding them palm up while water dripped from them. “With these hands,” she reached up touched his bottom lip, “and these taste buds,” she came around and hopped up on the counter next to him. “And who obviously finds a lot of joy in cooking; suddenly decides that he wants to be a stockbroker?”  
  
“Ah, you’re going for the twenty million dollar question,” he said with a small smile, reaching up to shut off the running water.  
  
She shrugged, “Just curious. You were in your groove tonight, as usual, and it just really made me wonder. Why’d you give it up?”  
  
“Why did you?” he asked, drying off his hands and leaning into the counter.  
  
“Necessity.”   
  
“That doesn’t really answer the question.” He gave her a look and she laughed softly nodding.  
  
“Well, you don’t have to really answer yours either then, but I’m still asking.”  
  
“Would you believe…money?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows in question  
  
“Okay, I could believe money, if you explain.”  
  
“In this town, that’s what it’s all about. Certain people are noticed because they have it and others are swept aside because they don’t.”  
  
“You are talking about your father, aren’t you?” she said softly. He didn’t respond, knowing she’d hit the nail on the head. Aware that she knew it, too. “The suit got you respect from him. He’s been kissing up to suits his whole life and then his son was one?” She continued, and this statement made Pacey’s gaze come up sharply, his hands ceasing their movements on the glass in his hand. Her statement put an angle on things he hadn’t quite seen before, something he couldn’t put his finger on.  
  
“A good chef can make a lot of money,” she added after a pause.  
  
“It takes a very long time to get there,” he said, welcoming the slight change in topic. He shrugged, “And I’m not sure I’m happy being trapped in the kitchen cooking just what other people tell me to. I want to do everything. Plan out the menu, greet the people, and see what’s going on…” He stopped because she was smiling, her eyes sparkling up at him filled with knowing. “What?”  
  
“Well, now I don’t think I can really buy the money excuse any more,” she said, “you were glowing.”  
  
He frowned. “Whaaat? I do not glow,” he said, “Glowing is for women.”  
  
“Whatever you say, but it was there like a neon sign.” Her smile grew bigger if such a thing was possible. “You want to own your own restaurant!”  
  
“I don’t think so,” he said, giving a little shake of his head.  
  
“Yes you do.” She gave his arm a poke.  
  
“That is not going to happen.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I’m me. Now can we move on?” he said with a frown, his voice was a little rough with emotion as he spoke and he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his control over his vocal cords.  
  
“I happen to like you,” she said, quoting the word ‘you’ with her fingers and it made him frown even more, deeply furrowing his brow.  
  
“Look, I didn’t want to be that guy. Alright?”  
  
“What guy is that?” she asked, confusion flitting over her features.  
  
“The guy who never grows up, he just goes along his merry way, doing whatever feels good, only thinking of himself.” He turned back to the dishes. “Problem is, as it turns out I am that guy anyway, I was just him in an Armani suit for awhile.” He started setting cups into the top rack of the dishwasher as he spoke.  
  
“I’m lost here, Pacey.”  
  
He sighed and moved on to the bowls, stacking them in carefully. “The restaurant business is perfect for guys who never want to grow up and be responsible.”  
  
“First of all, bullshit! Second of all, you don’t have to chart your life to please your father. Chances are that if he is not proud of you for who you are, there’s nothing you can do to change it.”  
  
“What about for myself?”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“It’s not about my father.” At her disbelieving look, he re-worded. “Well, not entirely about my father.” he said slowly, “Maybe I don’t want to be the guy who has everything, and who’s happy with nothing. The kind of guy who uses his friends and cheats on his wife.”  
  
“This guy is a chef?” she asked, frowning slightly.   
  
Pacey pushed in the top rack and then nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
“Pacey!” she cried, making a strangling gesture with her hands in front of her. “You are NOT that person.”  
  
“I am. I am the 21-year-old version of that person.”  
  
“That is my point! You are 21 years old. There is a whole lot of life in front of you.”  
  
“I can’t change who I am.”  
  
“You are who you choose to be.”  
  
“The Iron Giant, I saw that movie, too.”  
  
“Yeah, and it was a freaking great movie! It was also right.” She sighed and pushed her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face, and he noticed how pale she looked, and the dark circles under her eyes. “The environment, the people around us, they mold us, they effect us, but ultimately it is we who choose our fate. You don’t want to be a guy who cheats on his wife, so don’t be one.”  
  
“It’s that easy?”  
  
“No, it takes work, but most of it is up here,” she said, pounding her finger into his forehead. “Change your mind!”   
  
“I don’t know how to do that,” he said softly, leaning forward, bracing himself with his hands next to her on the counter.  
  
“It’s a decision you have to make everyday. Make your brain, your thoughts line up to what you want, and don’t let them go off on their own. Don’t repeat the bad things that you have been told all your life.” She looked at him earnestly as she spoke, and he let his head hang between his arms for a moment as he thought on her words. He didn’t know if this thing she proposed was possible, but wasn’t anything better than where he was at right now? He shook his head, thinking back on all the events that led him here, until he came back to her question.  
  
“It was a friend. This guy who owned his own restaurant. He’s the one who introduced me to all this. He was so much like me, and he looked so successful. He had a wife, his own restaurant, and I thought I could see myself there, that maybe I had a chance. It was great…”  
  
“Until you saw the complete picture,” she said, nodding her head. She reached out and ran a gentle hand over his arm.  
  
“It’s just that, you see, I thought I had found it. My guide down the road less traveled, but it took a not so nice turn to a place I didn’t want to be. So, I went in a completely different direction. Only it took its own turn to disaster.”  
  
“That’s the thing about guides, Pacey; they go in front and find the pitfalls. Your guide just showed you one. Just because this guy was similar to you, doesn’t mean you will be him. You aren’t him. You are an entirely different person.” She sighed and placed her hand on his cheek. Her skin felt cool against his, and he looked at her and waited for her to continue. Her voice was vibrant when she said, “We aren’t little soldiers cast in steel who can’t be changed! We are imaginative, versatile creatures, with infinite possibilities set before us, good and bad, and we have to choose.”  
  
“So, choose wisely,” he said with humor. She shook her head at him, but he was serious. He was thoughtfully silent looking at the cabinets, and she sat patiently there beside him.  
  
It was a daunting thought. The idea that his life was his to make, almost more daunting than having a set path of failure. What would he do with his life if the choice was really his to make? He crinkled his forehead as a full out vision filled his mind. “Weird.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“I can see it.”  
  
“See what?”  
  
“Me. Not cheating on my wife,” he teased, not wanting to tell her everything that he’d seen in that moment, not even wanting to admit it to himself it was such a high hope.  
  
“Does this mean you’re proposing again?”  
  
“I never proposed to you,” he said flatly, although he was pretty sure he had, and felt extremely thankful she hadn’t taken it wrong or been hurt by his drunken ramblings. He’d told her about Joey, and she seemed to understand like no one else had, the way she filled up his thoughts. The way the simplest things reminded him of her.  
  
“I think you need to make some choices, Pacey. Set some things in motion, decide what you want, and start to move after it,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forehead on his shoulder. She felt very warm to him through his shirt, and he slipped his arms around her. “I’m not saying it will happen quickly, but you can make it happen.”  
  
“I don’t think I have a lot of choices here, Glory. Three days from now…”  
  
She pulled back and looked at him. “Three days from now, anything could happen, you don’t know. Make your plans, know beforehand the next step you will take when you walk out free.”  
  
“What if I’m too afraid?”  
  
“Who was it who said that to me?” she asked herself, looking up thoughtfully, tapping her finger on her lower lip. “Doesn’t anybody just grab the bull by the horns and go for it any more?” Pacey felt his own words like a sting of the ocean spray on his face. She was right. He had to stop living in fear. Stop being afraid of who he could turn into and start becoming the man he wanted to be. He laughed, softly turning in to kiss her neck. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He pulled back and gave her a sly look. “How is it you know these things?”  
  
She shrugged and leaned back against the cabinets. “I don’t know, maybe it was something I already learned and needed to remember myself.” She closed her eyes, sighing softly. She looked very tired, which seemed off to him, considering the hours she usually kept. It was still early for her.  
  
He moved to stand in front of her, placing a large hand on each of her legs. “Hey, Kieffer, you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine, just a little stressed out these last few days.”  
  
“Not because of me I hope.”   
  
She smiled. “Not because of you.”  
  
“Are you ever going to tell me about it?” he asked, holding her away from him, so he could look in her eyes.  
  
“There’s nothing to tell, ok,” she answered, tilting her head to the side.  
  
He didn’t believe her, and part of him wanted to shake the truth out of her, but that wasn’t what she needed. She had been here for him, now he would just have to return the favor, and hope she would eventually trust him. That is, if he didn’t end up in prison first.  
  
There was a knock at the door, and they both turned their attention to it. Pacey looked back at her.  
  
“Somebody forgot something?” he suggested.  
  
“I’ll go answer it,” she said, sliding forward and hopping down as he stepped back, offering a hand she didn’t take. She smiled at him playfully. “You just get back to work, dish boy.” She turned and headed out toward the foyer, and Pacey watched her, leaning his elbow on the counter, his feet crossed at the ankle.  
  
“Bummer,” he said, catching her at the doorway. “Having you on the counter in front of me like that was bringing back good memories.”  
  
She turned and laughed, “Well, I guess I’ll have to come back then.”  
  
Pacey chuckled and went back to work, rinsing off the remaining dishes and loading them into the washer. He turned off the water, and was reaching under the sink for the detergent when he heard his brother’s voice from the living room.  
  
“…So, now it’s finished for the most part. He’s in the ICU, in a coma, and they don’t expect him to make it. Either way, he’s not going anywhere.” Doug’s voice carried down the hallway  
  
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Glory was saying, and her voice sounded strained.  
  
Pacey dried his hands and made his way, still listening, feeling guilty and yet driven to find out what was causing this heavy undertone he suddenly felt all around him.  
  
“That’s a perfectly reasonable way to feel,” Doug answered her.  
  
“Doug! I hate him. I want him to die a slow horrible death. Oh my God, I’m wishing a person dead! That’s not reasonable!” She laughed and the sound was pained and brittle. Pacey entered the room to see Glory fall to her seat on the sofa with her face in her hands.  
  
“It is when the when that person did what this person did to you,” Doug said, placing a comforting hand on her back and smoothing it over the fabric of her shirt gently.  
  
“What’s going on?” Pacey asked, looking from Doug to Glory and back again.  
  
Doug looked up, his vibrant blue eyes wide with surprise. “Pacey, what are you doing here?”  
  
“Washing dishes,” he stated flatly.  
  
Doug turned slowly to Glory, who had also turned at Pacey’s voice. She was smiling ever so slightly at Pacey’s remark. Understanding dawned in his eyes and he sat back slowly, nodding his head and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were fixed on Glory and he didn’t look happy. “I see.”  
  
Pacey suddenly wondered if Doug had lied about his feelings for Glory, or about their involvement. A knot formed in his stomach, tightening, clenching and he brought his hand up as if to soothe it.  
  
“Does he know?” Doug asked.  
  
Glory shook her head.  
  
“Goddamn it, Glory! I don’t remember you being this selfish.”  
  
“I’m selfish?” She cut her eyes at Doug and her words seemed to affect him, though Pacey didn’t know why; he was too consumed with confusion. “I wanted to forget about it, Doug, to just go on for awhile. To share something with someone and have him not be a part of it. I knew Pacey would just want to try and fix it somehow, like you.”  
  
“I’m a cop, Glo. I go after people who try to kill other people. That’s my job.”  
  
“Could somebody please tell me what the hell is going on? ‘Cause your really starting to freak me out here.”  
  
Glory looked up at him. “Hey, Pace, could you come over here?” she asked quietly, patting the seat beside her on the red sofa, one of only two pieces of furniture in the room. “I have something to tell you. It’s about my past


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

 

_I've become so numb I can't feel you there_ _  
 _I've become so tired so much more aware_  
 _I'm becoming this all I want to do_  
 _Is be more like me and be less like you…__  
Numb, Linkin Park  
  
  
She hated flying. Certainly it was some sort of abomination for humans to be lifted up on the wings of these giant machines and whisked through the air at thousands of miles per hour. Of course she could be wrong, and it was just her way of justifying her utterly vast fear of the whole process. For some reason, this flight back seemed much harder then the one she took out here. She wasn’t sure what was waiting on the other side. Same buildings and classes, same professors and classmates, but there were coming events whose outcome could really alter her entire world. She could feel a strange current in the air. Things were happening, beneath the surface, and she wondered if it was her awareness of this that made her feel uneasy. She didn’t know what would happen.   
  
She stood in her appointed line, and sighed. She looked at her watch. She tapped her shoe. She crossed her arms and sighed again.  
  
He should be coming with her.   
  
She shook her head and decided to focus on what it was she would say, what was it she had to offer to all these proceedings that would actually help. She blew a stray piece of hair from her face and started tapping her foot again. The man in front of her turned, looked down at her foot and then back up at her. What the hell are you looking at, buddy? She thought, and the look she gave him along with a splay of her hands told the story. He turned back around, and she looked at her watch.  
  
What a butthead. No, a blockhead was more like it. Can’t he even see what is in front of his face? Or inside of his heart for that matter? God, men! They were infuriating.  
  
Ok, forget about the blockhead. Forget about that guy who visited you, and spent hours talking to you, brought you smutty romance novels when you were stranded and bored out of your mind in rehab, because he is apparently a blockhead. Who cares about any of that other stuff when he can’t even deal with the simple and basic concept of a best friend?  
  
Pacey.   
  
She sighed again, the act becoming a theme in her breathing pattern, working into a rhythm of some kind. Breathe, 2, 3, 4, sigh. She couldn’t believe that she had gotten him caught up in all of this. She couldn’t believe her father had done something this over the line. She knew he pushed the limits of legality, definitely broke the laws of morality, but this was huge. Had he actually connected himself to this crime? Would getting Pacey out of this mess mean her father would go to jail? She didn’t know. She also didn’t know how she felt about it. She only knew that when she had met Pacey, he had seemed so alive. Wounded, but alive, and vibrant. She had found a kindred spirit in him, and even though she knew that romantically they really were a disaster, she still knew he’d never survive being locked up in a cage, and with all of her being, she didn’t want that.   
  
She handed over her boarding pass to the smiling man in the airport uniform. She smiled at him coyly since he was as cute as all hell, and made her way down the passageway. When she came to the actual plane she balked, and had to take several deep breaths before getting on board. She shuffled her way down the aisle through the crowds of people, until she reached her seat. She shoved her small bag in the overhead and flopped down into her seat so the throng that had gathered behind her could move on. She checked her watch one more time and then leaned back and closed her eyes.  
  
She hated this part. It was always one of the worst. This waiting. The only thing that beat it was the take off; that was really scary, and maybe turbulence, that really freaked her out too. She fumbled with her Mp3 player, looking for the memory disk she wanted and slipping it in. The guy beside her looked like he might be a talker and she didn’t want to give him an in.  
  
She was humming away to a Good Charlotte tune, focusing on it to keep herself distracted, when she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. She turned suddenly and smiled.   
  
Maybe not a complete blockhead after all.  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“Ok that’s all of them.” Doug said, heaving a large box on to a stack he had made. He wiped his brow, hot from the heavy lifting despite the chilly air coming in through the open door. “The boxes from the kitchen are as many as the boxes from all the other rooms put together.” He said laughing as Glory taped off and labeled another box.  
  
“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on doing that, but I guess chefs are addicted to their fancy tools.” She turned to look at Pacey. “Is that the last box?” she asked, her voice soft.  
  
Pacey ran his finger over the picture he was looking at, the last of the photo albums she’d asked him to pack, open in his right hand. The photo was of Glory, much younger, holding a tiny baby up for the camera and making him wave. Her smile was a mile wide. Sweet, blissful ignorance of what the future held lighting her face. He looked up from the photo at the sound of her voice, her face smiling at him in the present. She amazed him, it was that simple. How does a person live through something so terrible and still be able to smile.  
  
“Yeah, this is the last one,” he said, smiling back at her as he closed the book and set it into the box and folding over the top. She came over, handed him the tape, and watched him tape it shut.  
  
“So.”  
  
He laughed. “So?” he repeated and she laughed too. “After all the mouthiness I’ve gotten out of you, the best I get today is so?”  
  
She smiled softly. “What can I possibly say?” she asked.  
  
Pacey was quiet, thinking on that question. Truth was, he was asking himself the same. What was there to say?  
  
“So,” he laughed, realizing he’d said the word again. “What happens if he gets off? If he hasn’t given up yet, he won’t now just because he got caught once. He’ll keep trying.”  
  
“I’ll deal with that when the time comes. It’s really unlikely that he’ll get out of the manslaughter and attempted manslaughter charges. With all of the witnesses at the hospital and all the documentation they have. Pictures of my little Nicholas... of what Carl did to him,” she answered softly. “As for right now, I’m tired of him dictating my life’s direction. I’m going to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak. He has taken enough from me; I’m taking my life back.” She said with a gentle smile. “I’ll be ok.”  
  
“And it doesn’t scare the hell out of you?”  
  
“That he almost found me? That if it hadn’t been for certain hardheaded people, I could be dead right now?” She looked at Doug who was still carrying out boxes then back at him with an open and honest gaze; he saw her fear, and also her determination. “Yes, it does. But I have to do this, for me and for Nick. He would want his mommy to live her life.”  
  
Pacey nodded, finishing with the box. He tossed the roll of tape onto the floor gently, aiming for the pile of other packing items and turned back to her with his hands gently resting on his hips. Her face was so familiar to him now, her eyes such an odd pale brown, her curly mop of hair, her freckles and the curve of her cheek. He still couldn’t come to terms with the idea that someone had wanted to kill her, had actually almost beaten her to death, and wouldn’t stop chasing her until he had succeeded. And, it had been the one person she should’ve been able to trust. Her husband. What kind of person does such a thing?  
  
He had noticed the scars, but hadn’t seen them for what they really were, too busy he with his own worries. The doctors had done a good job, that was for sure, because the truth of those scars was almost too much to think about. She had come here to hide, never really knowing how far Carl was, how many steps behind her, and through all of that, she had been there for Pacey. She had saved him, in ways he was sure she didn’t even realize, and he really didn’t know how to thank her for it.  
  
“Doug’s giving you a ride?” he asked, his voice rough, scooping up the box.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Good, he’s a nice safe driver,” Pacey said, and then smiled. “You may be late however.”  
  
“Then I guess they’ll just have to wait for me.”  
  
“What about…um…” Pacey bit his lip. He hated bringing up the trial, hated thinking about it, or reminding any one of its ominous presence.  
  
“I’m going to Boston, so I’ll be there. Besides, as your employer, I feel the need to testify.”  
  
“On my behalf, I hope.”  
  
“Well, what else?” she asked, poking him in the chest. “I certainly couldn’t have anything bad to say, unless you think they’ll hold your kinkiness against you.”  
  
He laughed. There was another stretch of quiet, then, “Jewel’s going to buy the bar?”  
  
“Eventually, when she can, for now she’ll just run it in my stead.”  
  
“She’ll be good at it. She loves that place.”  
  
“Yes, she does.”  
  
He carried the box of albums out to the police Suburban and loaded it into the back with all the others. He was just turning to say goodbye to her and walk her to the door of the truck when suddenly, she was wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. He sighed deeply, storing the moment into his memory, and hugged her back. Eventually, she pulled back and smiled at him, though there were tears dancing along her lower lashes threatening to spill. “Here,” she said shoving a small flat square package toward him.  
  
“What’s this?” he asked, turning it in his hand.  
  
“Your brooding music. It’s not Zeppelin, but something tells me it’s just right for the type of brooding you will be doing.”  
  
He smiled. “I see. You think I will be brooding?”  
  
“You already brood, now you just have music,” she replied. Then she said, “Do me a favor all right, Pacey.” Her voice and face turned serious.  
  
He looked back with equal focus. “Yeah, sure, anything.”  
  
“Remember something.”  
  
“I know…”  
  
“Remember this. You are a treasure, a gift, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” With those words, she kissed him soundly, her lips warm and soft on his for only a moment, then she pulled away and climbed up into the Suburban, next to Doug.   
  
Pacey simply waved as they pulled away.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
He stood in silence, hidden by the darkness, the shade of the trees helped to conceal him even from the moonlight. He really wasn’t sure why he was here, couldn’t believe he had actually come, that on possibly his last night as a free man he had ventured here, of all places. But as he peered through the windows from a distance and spotted his sisters, his nieces and nephews, he smiled ever so slightly. They were hellions; it’d be a shame not to see them one last time. Plus, Gretchen was inside, and it had been such a long time since he’d seen her, and he needed a favor.  
  
He sighed, decided he really was just crazy enough to do this, but his feet still wouldn’t move. He jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. “You just gonna stand out here all night? ‘Cause I can always arrest you for voyeurism if the securities fraud isn’t enough for ya.”   
  
He turned and smiled at Doug, then squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I thought you might need an ace in the hole.”  
  
Pacey laughed, “Who ever thought that’d be you?”  
  
“Not me that’s for sure. I’ve spoken to my doctor about this sudden burst of brotherly affection, and he’s prescribed some pills.” Doug said in a serious tone, looked off towards the house and shrugged. “They must not have kicked in yet.”  
  
Pacey laughed. Then asked, “Glory settled in ok?”  
  
“Yeah, she actually has a great set up,” he said. He scratched his eyebrow with his thumbnail then qualified, “Well, not so much right now, that space above her restaurant it a mess, but once she sells the house here, she’ll be good. It has tons of potential.”  
  
“That’s good.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well, I guess we better stop stalling, and get started on this nightmare before those pills of yours kick in.” Pacey said. Doug chuckled and they stared to move toward the house, breaking the shadows and stepping out into the light from the porch.  
  
“How did you know I would come here?” Pacey asked. They walked slowly, each step purposeful, as if they had to make the decision anew with each one.  
  
“I figured you might want to make peace, of sorts, just in case,” Doug said. “Not that you’d admit that’s what you were doing.”  
  
Pacey looked over at him. “I really don’t think I’m in the wrong in this little family rift.”  
  
“No, you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you want that last fight you and Pop had to be the last conversation you share before…”  
  
“You can say it Doug, it’s ok.”  
  
“Nah,” he said with a shrug, “It’s not gonna happen.”  
  
“But just in case I thought I could come say high to Gretchzilla, since she’s in town.”  
  
“Yeah, me too.”  
  
They reached the steps and stopped in unison, looking up at the porch of their childhood home. Both lost in their own separate memories involving the structure. The running in and out. Mom calling them in from play. Swinging from the porch rails, leaping the steps with one jump, and feeling like it was the greatest of accomplishments.  
  
“That was a good joke back there by the way,” Pacey said out of the blue, breaking the reverie. “You surprised me.”  
  
“Too much time with my smart ass kid brother, I guess.”  
  
“Ugh. Let’s just hope it doesn’t work both ways, I don’t need you rubbing off on me.” Pacey said, giving a mock shudder. “I’ll probably end up with a boyfriend in prison as it is, I don’t want to fit the part.”  
  
“Pacey…” Doug said, looking at him, his eyes expressing his frustration and worry.  
  
“I’m ok, Doug. Let’s just not talk about it. Pop’s bound to bring it up, but until then…”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
They reached the door and Doug knocked while Pacey shoved his hands in his pockets, glad he didn’t have to make that move, and feeling fifteen again as he waited for the door to open, not knowing what his welcome would be on this day.   
  
It was a hug.  
  
When his mom saw him standing in her doorway, she smiled and pulled him into her embrace. Moving past Doug to greet him first, which surprised him the most. It all happened so fast, he didn’t have time to formulate a reaction. She was just there leaning up on her toes and wrapping her arms around him and saying, “Hello, baby boy,” in his ear. He almost didn’t get his hands out of his pockets in time to hug her back, and the response inside of him to this rare occurrence was more intense than he wanted to think about or admit to. She turned, looping her arm around Doug’s waist, and ushered them inside, in a very unusual display of “touchy feely” affection.  
  
Gretchen was there an instant later, hugging them both and giving them both looks that told of her sympathy and confusion at everything that was going on. Pacey was going to trial and Doug the golden boy was in exile. It was bizarro world to her, and it was all in the look she gave them as they moved inside toward the living room.  
  
Dinner was a bit awkward, but was saved by the constant distraction of Carrie’s kids. Afterward, they gathered together in the living room, and Pacey started working on how he could get to talk to Gretchen alone for a moment. He had a question to ask her, and he didn’t want to air it to the Witter family forum.  
  
“So, Pacey, what are you going to do once all this mess is over with?” Gretchen asked. She leaned back against the arm of the old brown sofa and turned slightly to look at him, propping her head up with her hand.  
  
“You mean if he gets his ass out of this mess.”  
  
“Thanks, for the confidence there, Pop,” Pacey commented with a wry chuckle.  
  
Gretchen gave John a subtle glare then turned back to Pacey. “What are you going to do with your life? I mean, job wise…life wise?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Pop asked, butting in once again. “He’s got two good jobs right now, which are right up his alley, and will keep him out of trouble. He needs to stay right where he is.”  
  
Pacey just turned and looked at his father with eyes at half-mast. “That’s what you think?” he asked.  
  
“Well, Pacey, Miss Kieffer said you were the best bartender she’d had in a long time,” his mom added in her two cents. “You should be happy to have a job that you are good at and so well suited to. Not too much for you to handle. And at the B&B, you’ve got Bessie Potter to look after you.”  
  
“Ok,” Pacey started. “First off, the job at the B&B is fine, but it’s not going to be there forever. Second, the bartending is fun, but that’s not what I want to do with my life.”  
  
“Pacey, I think you are too old now for all this nonsense. It’s time to settle down with something and stick with it,” his Mom said, “I’m worried about you.”  
  
Pacey frowned at that, but didn’t comment. He turned to Gretchen and smiled. The words seemed to come from his mouth of their own accord. “I’m going to go to school next fall, at the community college. They have a pretty good program for hotel and restaurant management, as well as business management. It’s a two year degree, and I hate school, but I need to take a step forward, and I think…I think, that’s it.” There, it was out there. Instead of feeling dread over the eminent onslaught of judgment he was certain was about to be unleashed, he felt a sudden sense of accomplishment, as if declaring his intentions had been a step forward all its own.  
  
“So you’re just planning to throw good money down the drain then, instead of being responsible and holding down the jobs you have. You’re gonna chase after some pipe dream?”  
  
“Why is it money down the drain, Dad?” Carrie demanded, suddenly leaning forward and looking at her father, shocking every one of her fellow siblings. “I think it’s great that Pacey has decided to go to school, I wish that I could do that. If it’s what he wants, he should go for it.”  
  
“Carrie, I don’t think anybody asked your opinion.”  
  
“Well, no one asked yours, Pop, but you were certainly free to hand it out,” Doug commented without looking at the man he was speaking to.  
  
“I think it’s great, too,” Gretchen said, smiling at her little brother, ignoring her father’s apoplectic look and flapping mouth, giving Pacey a playful punch to the shoulder. “You don’t need to go to school to earn my respect Pacey, you already have that, but I’m proud of you for making some decisions about what you want and going for it. A long-term goal. Good for you.”  
  
“Thanks, Gretch, I was hoping you’d say that, because I would like to ask you for a letter of recommendation for a scholarship I’m trying for.” He pulled the paper out of his back pocket and handed it to her.  
  
“Happy to,” she replied, taking it and looking it over quickly and then sticking it in her back pocket. “I’ll get it to you on Monday, ok?”  
  
“Unless he’s in prison,” his father popped off.  
  
The room was silent until finally Pacey said, in response to Gretchen, “Thanks that’ll be great.”  
  
“What are you going to do with that degree? Hotel and restaurant management?” his mother was asking, leaning on his father’s chair.  
  
“I’m going to open my own restaurant,” he said, his chin slipping up a notch without him realizing it. “After I work managing for a few years and save up some money. It will be awhile, but that’s what I want.”  
  
His mother frowned. “Why can’t you just be someone’s chef?”  
  
“It doesn’t make me happy,” he said with a shrug.  
  
“Life isn’t about being happy, it’s about working hard and building a family, and supporting them, that’s what it is to be a man.” John said, before taking another chug of the beer in his hand.  
  
Doug was fuming at that, Pacey thought he could actually see the steam coming out of his ears. Carrie just laughed, while Gretchen threw her hands into the air, and Pacey suddenly realized that there had been some sort of mini revolution. They were all on his side.  
  
“Pacey, Angel,” his mother said, but the nickname sounded more patronizing than loving to his ears. “Don’t you think that owning your own restaurant is a lot to expect?”  
  
Pacey smiled, “Yeah, it is Mom, but what’s the point in having dreams if they are just the run of the mill ordinary kind. Maybe I’ll never get there, but I’m sure as hell going to try.”  
  
It seemed to be Pop’s turn to fume. He sat in his chair, his jaw working, and his eyes slits, aimed at Pacey. “It doesn’t matter what I do, or say, you won’t listen. It makes a man sick to think that his own son won’t heed his advice. You just insist on being the screw up. don’t you?”  
  
Pacey flinched at his father’s comment, but all around him a sudden melee ensued. Everyone was talking at once, yelling, hollering, but Pacey just looked at his father, and all of a sudden, without any real warning he saw him as if for the first time. He saw what was real.  
  
There in front of him, sat a man who was small and alone. John Witter had successfully locked himself up in his own little box. Away from his children who had all their lives only wanted to please him and make him proud, himself included.   
  
Pacey looked at his brother, who was only recently living up to that title., Carrie who was dumb, Gretchen who was too smart, Sheryl had been AWOL since graduation, and he was the screw-up. But none of it was true. Doug was turning in to an excellent brother and still managed to be a damn fine police officer at the same time. Carrie was an amazing mom, considering all she and her kids had been through with her dead beat husband, and Gretchen, well Gretch was well on her way to being famous in the music media world.   
  
They were all good people, and Pop didn’t even know them. He didn’t know his own kids, his own family. And as Pacey looked back at him sitting there in his chair, beer in one hand, baseball hat slightly askew, railing at the world for its injustice in giving him four rebellious kids and one royal fuck up. Pacey felt sorry for him. He felt overwhelming, head shaking pity.   
  
He loved that man, and he still wanted love from him, one ‘well done’, one ‘go for it Pacey you can do it.’ Just one ‘I believe in you’, but suddenly he didn’t see those words being as important as he had before, because, though he still loved his father, his admiration was no longer all powerful. Who really needed validation from a lonely, pitiful and hateful man?  
  
“Ok that’s enough!” Mary was saying, sticking her hands through the air. “I can’t believe the whole lot of you, turning on your father like this, and him with a bad heart!”  
  
“Damn it, Mary, there’s nothing wrong with my heart!”  
  
She ignored him “Girls, come and help me in the kitchen. Pacey, you just think about what your father and I have said; we are only trying to do what is best for you, but in the end, it’s your decision. We can’t make it for you.”   
  
Gretchen got off the couch, giving Pacey’s shoulder a squeeze as she did so, and Carrie gave him a smile as she passed, and he had that distinct twilight zone feeling again, only it felt good somehow.   
  
Doug got up and started picking up the mess the kids had left in their wake, wanting to distance himself from the moment, but not abandon Pacey by actually leaving the room.  
  
The space was shrouded in silence until Peter, Carrie’s youngest, came in and climbed on to Pacey’s lap. “Hey Unca Pacey, are you gonna go to prison?”  
  
“I hope not, Rugrat.”  
  
“If you do, can I come visit you?”  
  
“Of course, you can help me make license plates.”  
  
“Really!”  
  
“Sure,” Pacey said, chuckling.  
  
“Will you still make me chocolate cake?”  
  
“I don’t think I will be able to make my chocolate cake in prison.” And if I do, I’ll have to use it to bribe the guards to keep Big Bubba or Mad Jake off of me, he thought. “Maybe you can bring me some, though.”  
  
“Ok, I’ll try, but Mom won’t let me do any cooking. She says I’ll burn the house down like you almost did.”   
  
Pacey laughed. “Yeah well, she’s probably right. You’re a bit too young for the kitchen by yourself. You could help Mom make one.”  
  
“She’s a terrible cook!” Peter declared, causing Pacey to chuckle once again. He sighed, and looked down at the dragon that flew and swirled across the front of Pacey’s button up shirt. “I hope you don’t go, too,” he added softly.  
  
“Thanks Squirt,” Pacey said, ruffling the boy’s hair.  
  
John Witter snorted and got up, moving his chair back into the other room where there was a basketball game filling the TV screen. 


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

 

_The first tiny little shadows, of my creepy little thoughts, inhabit all that matters and I lose by default_ …   
Cubically Contained, The Headstones.  
  
  
  
“Bessie Potter, you let that boy up out of the water this very instant!”  
  
“Mom, he won’t stop splashing me!” Bessie screamed back from her bent over position, where she held a particularly troublesome brown-haired little boy under the water. “The little shit deserves to drown!”  
  
“You watch your mouth, girl!” Lillian Potter called, her voice lilting melodiously even in her frustration. “And let Pacey up. Now!”  
  
Bessie let out a frustrated little scream, shoved Pacey farther under, then stepped back, letting go of him.   
  
He burst out of the water furious, sputtering and wiping his face, and gasping for air. He glared at her and started splashing her in earnest. She screamed as she was completely doused.  
  
“I’m gonna kill you, you runt.”  
  
“You can’t, your mom said!” Pacey cried and continued to splash her. Joey, who had been laughing at the whole scene, jumped in. “Yeah! Mom said.”  
  
Dawson eased in slowly, seeming lost to the whole concept of all this craziness, until Bessie managed to douse him with a king-sized wave, and then he jumped into the fight with fervor.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
_January 27, 2004…_  
  
  
  
“Hey Bess, can you help me with this, apparently I’m a little rusty.”  
  
Bessie looked up from her coffee, to find Pacey at the doorway to the kitchen holding out his tie to her expectantly. He was dressed in a light blue shirt that, accompanied by the soft morning light, brought out the green in his eyes.  
  
“Sure, Pace,” she said, rising from her chair, wondering if it had been long since he’d asked or if it was just a trick her mind played when lost in thought.   
  
She looped the tie around up and over, hoping that she remembered it correctly. “Why is it always the women who know how to tie ties, when it is the men who wear them?” She tightened it up, making sure it wasn’t too tight on his neck before stepping back. Once upon a time he had been shorter than her.   
  
“I don’t know. It must be one of those great mysteries of the universe that follow women around.”  
  
“You hungry?” she asked, shuffling back to her coffee and paper still dressed in her robe and slippers. She should probably be getting dressed soon.   
  
“No, actually,” Pacey replied, rubbing his stomach absently. She watched as he sat down, staring at the tie he was wearing, smoothing his fingers over the smooth silken surface of it. He sighed softly, almost inaudibly, and Bessie knew today was weighing heavy on him.  
  
“It’ll be ok, Pacey, you’ll see.”  
  
He gave a half-hearted nod. She got up and poured him a cup of coffee, setting it in front of him in his favored mug, the dark aromatic liquid filling the air with its fragrance. He turned and took a sip, and she smiled slightly. She set a stack of toast in the center of the table, along with some apple and orange slices, and then sat back down in her chair. She took a piece of toast and nibbled as she watched Pacey take another sip of his coffee.  
  
“So what were you thinking about?” he asked.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“When I came in just now, you looked lost in thought.”  
  
“Oh,” she chuckled slightly as the thought returned to her. “I was remembering the time I tried to drowned you in the creek.”  
  
Pacey chuckled as well. “I remember that. Your mom came to my rescue. I had a crush on her after that.”  
  
Bessie really laughed this time. “You did not.”  
  
“I did too,” he said smiling at her. “She saved me, she made those great cookies, and she used to read to me when I had to stay over. My mom never did that. I thought she was the best ever. I fully intended to grow up and run away with her.”  
  
“Oh no, that’s too funny,” she replied. Her mind drifted for a moment, to her mother and her gentle, but ornery ways.  
  
Pacey chuckled and took a piece of toast, absently tearing off the corner and shoving it in his mouth.  
  
“I remember, Joey was cheering me on, and then as soon as you started splashing me, she changed sides, and Dawson just looked lost,” Bessie said, looking off into the distance with a smile.  
  
“He always was a little overwhelmed by all the sibling rivalry; he didn’t really have any of that at home.”  
  
“I guess that made it harder when things went crazy, huh, between you two, I mean?”  
  
Pacey looked up at her, and then nodded, chewing on an apple slice now. “I think so. But I can’t change any of that.”  
  
“I know, I just remember you two, marching through the marshes, arms around each other’s shoulders singing “Yo Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum.”  
  
“Yeah,” he sighed. “That was a long time ago.”  
  
“I guess it was.”  
  
They sat there in silence, and she watched as he ate several more pieces of fruit and toast and finished his coffee. The silence stretched on so long, that when he spoke it surprised her.  
  
“Does she ever call you?”  
  
Bessie stared at him. He wasn’t looking at her, but out the window toward the creek, his eyes only slightly open. “Yeah, she does. I’d kill her if she didn’t.”  
  
He nodded. “Does she know about…um, about all this?”  
  
“No, Pacey, I didn’t tell her anything, and she doesn’t ask.” She saw the disappointment flit across his face before he hid it. “One time, she almost did though, one time she started to ask, but she didn’t. She’s just trying to get her head on straight, Pace, and nothing has ever been more distracting to her than you two boys.”  
  
“I know, and I understand, I really do. It’s ok, I just…”  
  
“Don’t want her to know.”  
  
“Didn’t like the idea that she knew and still didn’t call… or write.”  
  
“She doesn’t know.”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Well, I better go get dressed, we are supposed to leave in an hour and look at me!” She walked from the room turning only once, seeing him finish off another slice of toast, before she walked away.   
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Pacey leaned forward in his chair. His hands, fingers interlaced, rested on the table in front of him. Next to them were Meggie’s notepads, her briefcase, pens and pencils. On the other side, was all the paraphernalia that accompanied her assistant.   
  
The afternoon sun was now pouring in through the west-facing windows that lined one side of the courtroom, telling of the length of time its occupants had been enclosed within. It cast his hands and the table beneath in a yellow-orange glow, highlighting the hairs on the backs of his fingers.  
  
His entire focus was on his hands. The long, blunt tipped fingers, the cracked thumbnail on his left hand where he’d jammed it fixing one of the patio chairs at the B&B. There were scars, a few he didn’t remember and a few he did. The rope burn scar and a few small cuts here and there. One from the box cutter at the video store, one from a dull knife at Civilization.  
  
He could hear the voices echoing around him, but he had long ago tuned out most of the words. Even Meggie’s effervescent voice seemed to drone on endlessly inside his skull.   
  
Maybe most people would be happy or feel encouraged by this display. Maybe most people would enjoy listening to friends and family list off all their positive attributes. To hear them talk about their charm, their talent, but Pacey just felt incredibly uncomfortable.  
  
One after the other, Meggie would call them up there and asked them all the pertinent questions. “How long have you known Pacey Witter?” “How did you first meet?” “What kind of person would you say that Pacey Witter is?” To Pacey, it felt intensely bizarre, and after she had finished with each of them, it was Nuzback’s turn.  
  
Elliot Nuzback was a tyrant.  
  
After his easy dismissal of, and apparent lack of concern for the forged signatures, Pacey had felt a distinct loss of confidence, despite Meggie’s assurance that they had the jury on his side with that one. And now as the man cross-examined each witness, the guilt that grew inside Pacey’s stomach tossed and turned, mating with his anger, making him feel nauseated and tense.   
  
Nuzback turned every answer, questioned every response, he hinted, he bullied, he was very much the villainous lawyer a person would see in the movies or on TV, and he intimidated every person Meggie put up on that stand, with the exception of Grams, who freely labeled him the bully and ended up with a warning from the judge, however the comment made Meggie grin confidently. Pacey couldn’t bring himself to smile, he could only stare at his hands, willing them not to ball into fists, willing his thoughts not to travel their old familiar path of defeat and self- loathing.  
  
Doug stepped down from the stand now and received a nod and a smile from Meggie as he passed, and gave Pacey meaningful glance, that Pacey understood as an apology, and the guilt rolled over once again. He went back to studying the scars on his hand.  
  
“Ms. Albrecht, do you wish to call any more witnesses?”  
  
“Yes, your Honor, the defense would like to call a Mr. Dawson Leery.”  
  
Pacey’s head jerked up at the mention of the name, and he watched as the familiar form of his childhood friend, his blood brother, approached the stand and took his oath to tell the truth.  
  
When he stepped up onto the stand and turned, he looked out and their eyes met, both surprised, both questioning, until Pacey finally looked away.  
  
  
  
Dawson looked down at his hands and wondered again what the hell he was doing here. He knew Pacey didn’t want him here, but he had to do something; he could no longer sit by and let this anger control him, he wanted, he needed Pacey to know somehow that their friendship hadn’t been wiped away. Maybe it was irreparably damaged, but it was still there and he couldn’t turn it off, and he couldn’t turn away.  
  
Meggie asked him all the questions that they’d gone over on the phone. He spoke of how he’d known Pacey for as long as he could remember, growing up in the same small town with mothers similar in age. He told about the day they had really become friends, when Pacey had rescued his Gremlins doll from some of the punks who were two grades higher in school. When they were finished with the questions, she gave him a wink and walked away.  
  
“Your witness, Counselor,” she said, her smile winning, her voice innocent and caring. She sounded every bit like a person you could trust with your future and your life, and Dawson felt built up by her encouragement. Until he was looking in the face of the other lawyer.   
  
“So, let me just clear up one little thing here, Mr. Leery; you’ve known Pacey Witter your whole life and it seems he’s gotten you in trouble countless times…”  
  
“I’ve gotten him in trouble just as many…” Dawson heard himself say. Nuzback tried to cover it, to pretend it hadn’t been said, but it had been spoken clearly.  
  
“And then one day, you give him 18,000 dollars of your hard earned money, which you have scrimped and saved over a laborious summer job, to invest. He makes you promises of a big return, and then loses every dime.”  
  
“Actually, at first he said no. He didn’t want problems with money to come between us.”  
  
“But he changed his mind,” Nuzback said, “Hmm, imagine that, and then when you told him you wanted to pull out, he convinced you to stay in.”  
  
Dawson didn’t say anything. He looked over at Pacey, who was looking very intently at his hands.  
  
“Isn’t that right, Dawson? And you lost everything.”  
  
“He just made a mistake,” Dawson answered, and he realized that he did truly believe that.   
  
“That’s an awfully big mistake,” Nuzback said, turning to give the jury a knowing smile.  
  
Dawson glared at the man, anger coming to a boil inside of him. His face suddenly became calm and words formed on his lips without thought. “Pacey only makes big mistakes, Mr. Nuzback,” Dawson said. He didn’t notice Pacey’s head pop up across the room, but he did notice the surprise in the lawyer’s eyes at being called by name. “Because Pacey only takes big chances. He does everything without fear, all the way, with his whole heart, and he doesn’t hold anything back.   
  
"When he crashes, it’s usually in a huge in a ball of flames, but when it works, it’s the most amazing thing you’ll ever see. Pacey wanted to do that for me. That’s the truth. And I know that, because I know him.”  
  
“Or maybe you just think you do,” Nuzback said, gathering his senses. “No more questions, Your Honor,” he said before Dawson could say anything else, and Dawson was escorted down from the stand by the bailiff, catching a glimpse of Pacey’s surprised and confused face as he passed through the gate and sat down next to Audrey on his bench in the back of the courtroom.  
  
The door next to them opened suddenly, and a young man slipped inside to hurry down the side of the courtroom. His silhouette moved through the curtains of light from the windows, giving a strobe effect to the room, until he was standing at Pacey’s defense table, leaning in to speak closely with one of the lawyers, who in return leaned over to whisper to Albrecht. Meggie’s large smile was visible to the back of the room, where Dawson and Audrey watched attentively, as was Pacey’s look of increasing confusion as he leaned in and questioned her.  
  
In his lap, Dawson crossed his fingers, and he felt Audrey slip her hand into his and give it a squeeze, her fingers also crossed. He looked up at her and she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling.  
  
“I told you, you loved him,” she said, just before Meggie Albrecht stood to her feet, requesting a short recess, in order to review new evidence that had just recently come to her attention.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“What is this all about, Meggie?” Elliot asked, unbuttoning his jacket and taking a seat.  
  
“I just received a bit of information that I thought you should be made aware of,” Meggie said, still standing at the opposite end of the long conference table.  
  
“Alright then, let’s hear it.”  
  
“First, I need to ask you a question.”  
  
He sighed and gave her a tolerant look. “Shoot.”  
  
“Do you really think my client is the guilty party in this situation?”  
  
Dead silence met her from her opposing counsel. Pacey sat quietly off to the side, watching confused and still emotionally reeling from what had just happened in the courtroom. The things Dawson had said.  
  
“I don’t think he is innocent, if that is what you are asking.”  
  
“It’s not,” she said, leaning in. There was a knock on the door and Meggie’s assistant opened it, receiving a large padded package from a messenger. She took the package and looked into the opened end of it with a small smile as she continued speaking. “See, I think you would much rather take down a bigger fish. I think that it is eating you up inside, the fact that you have taken in so many meaningless peons from Remmick Luers. So many young, naïve, wet behind the ears stockbrokers, boys so young it seems improbably that they would be stockbrokers in the first place, with an abundance of evidence to throw at them.” She smiled sweetly and looked up at him. “You were very surprised when it came back that it wasn’t my client’s signature on those certificate weren’t you?”  
  
Elliot tapped his pencil on the table and looked at her darkly.  
  
“Every other guy had his actual signature on those certificates, but my client did not, why do you think that is?”  
  
“I, of all people, appreciate your flare for the dramatic, Meggie, but this is a court of law, not a Dick Francis novel.”  
  
“C’mon,” she said softly. “You said I could ask.”  
  
He looked over at Pacey for a long time, his jaw flexing as he did so, and Pacey had the feeling he was being scanned thoroughly, like something out of Star Trek, but he didn’t look away.  
  
“Mr. Witter is the only one who stormed out right after everything hit the fan. Everyone else stuck around, blissfully unaware until we showed up knocking on their door,” Nuzback said finally.  
  
Meggie’s smile grew wider.   
  
“Doesn’t mean he’s innocent, Megs.”  
  
She pulled a document from the package and held it up. “This is an e-mail from my client to a Mr. Liddell.” Pacey sat up straighter in his chair and looked at her. He had only written one e-mail to Mr. Liddell. Audrey’s dad was on the board of directors and he had wanted someone up top to check out the numbers he’d been getting in on the Stepitech stock. It hadn’t seemed right to him, but Mr. Liddell had assured him they were accurate, he’d had several of the ‘higher ups’ sign off on it. His eyes grew widened.  
  
“Meggie, wait,” he said, standing up and taking her arm gently.  
  
She turned and looked at him with concern. Then nodded and turned back to the group of councilors, who were waiting for her reveal. “One minute, Gentlemen.” She showed Pacey into a small adjoining room and closed the door.  
  
“Meggie,” he frowned and leaned in keeping his voice low. “Are you saying Mr. Liddell is in on all of this?”  
  
“Yes, Pacey, he’s very much a part of this. I think it goes all through that place like a spider web. I believe that he set you up.”   
  
Pacey took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment, letting that information sink in.  
  
“I don’t know,” he said after a moment, once the anger had passed enough for him to form words. “He’s the father, of…of a friend and I don’t want to hurt her. She really doesn’t deserve that. It would…”  
  
“You mean Audrey?”  
  
He looked up, a little surprised and nodded. Meggie looked over his shoulder, “Ralph.” Was all she said, but Ralph seemed to know the order and moved to the door. He returned a moment later, with Audrey in tow.  
  
Pacey swallowed nervously at the sight of her, wondering what she was going to say, how she would react. When she looked up, he was surprised to see she was crying. “Audrey, hey.” He motioned for her to come closer, but she held up her hand.  
  
“If you want to hate me, Pacey, it’ll be ok. I should’ve known it was something like this. Daddy never likes my boyfriends and he always has something up his sleeve. But, I swear, I didn’t know, Pacey. I didn’t.”  
  
“It’s ok. I didn’t think that you did. This is not your fault. He’s the bad guy, not you,” he said, taking a step closer to her, seeking some way to give her comfort.  
  
Audrey almost laughed when he said that, having heard it before. She didn’t, but she did smile. “Yes, he is. That’s why you have to use this information to save yourself.” She placed her hand on his cheek, and he put his over hers and pulled it down to his chest, over his heart, his thumb gently caressing her fingers.  
  
“Audrey, I …I can’t put your father in prison,” he said, looking at her earnestly.  
  
“If he goes to prison for this, he will have sent himself there, not you. I’ll be ok. I could never look him in the eye again if he gets off and you… I couldn’t, I’d rather see him in jail.”  
  
“Audrey. A lot has happened between you and I, and we’re on stable ground now. I don’t want to be the cause of any more pain for you.”  
  
“You’re not, Pacey, he is. And besides that, how will I go on knowing that he did this and keep quiet about it? I can’t do that.”  
  
Meggie stepped forward. “The truth is that this is evidence in an ongoing investigation, it will get out. I can’t hold it back Pacey, I’m sorry. But Audrey wanted you to know that she didn’t blame you.”  
  
Pacey looked back at her and then back to Audrey and nodded.  
  
“I’ll see you later, ok?” she asked softly.  
  
“Yeah,” Pacey said as she left the room.  
  
“So, where was I?” she asked sweetly as she and Pacey reentered the main conference room, noticing Elliot was just shy of having steam literally coming out of his ears. “Oh yes. This…” she pulled paper out of the package she’d been cradling, holding it up for a moment, then slid it across the table to him. “Has been authenticated by all the right people as you will see, and it documents that Pacey was reluctant about the information he was receiving concerning the stock in question.”  
  
Elliot looked it over slowly, and then looked back up at Meggie. Her dark eyes were dancing and her kewpie doll mouth was turned up in a smile. “Where did you get this Meggie?”   
  
“I think you know where I got it, Mr. Nuzback,” she answered.  
  
“You found the laptop.” She didn’t answer, but she didn’t really need to. “Shit. This is withholding evidence!”  
  
“I withheld nothing. I just received it myself, late last night actually, and had to have it analyzed. Now that I’m done, it’s your turn. But you know my guy, you know he’s both trustworthy and accurate. Also annoyingly moral.”  
  
“Ok, so what’s on it?” he asked slowly, his irritation with her tinged with his excitement over this discovery.  
  
“How did you know about the laptop?” Pacey asked. It seemed to him, from this conversation, that they had been very interested in finding it. Pacey had only mentioned it offhandedly to Meggie. He hadn’t thought there was anything on it, just felt like it was a stone unturned that he couldn’t access.  
  
“Well,” Nuzback began, turning the paper in his long fingers. “Remmick Luers is very strict about their computers. You see, they have countless spy ware programs and cleaning programs running at all times, erasing and rewriting the hard data. They say it is to save on hard drive space, but this is a bit of overkill for this type of company. Unless, of course, you needed to know everything that was on any one of your employees’ computers at any given time, and needed to control that information so that the right people only see what you want them to see. Of course, this is all purely speculation on my part and my superiors.   
  
Did anyone ever talk to you about the laptop, Mr. Witter?”  
  
“Well, I had to check it in everyday, and check it out again when I went home, something about bombs and terrorist acts, but they never scanned it or anything.”  
  
“And no one ever mentioned that you weren’t supposed to use it?” Nuzback asked, raising a pale eyebrow.  
  
“Rich once said that it was frowned upon, that they were worried about a leak or some crap like that, but I… I, um, sorta snuck it past him. I was hoping to work more from home, spend a little extra time with a… with a friend.”  
  
“And the day you quit, you forgot it there.” It was more of a flat statement than a question.  
  
“Um, yeah, I was in a bit of a hurry. A little pissed off. A good friend of mine had just lost a lot of money.” He looked up at Nuzback, daring him to contradict his statement. “Rich was a prick about it. Not surprising, Rich is a prick about everything.”  
  
“You see, Mr. Witter; no one else has ever managed to go in and out of Remmick Luers with a laptop computer.” He leaned back and gazed back at Pacey with his cold lavender eyes. “I suppose that it is possible they just submitted under the weight of their leadership, trying to be what was expected so they would keep getting promoted. I noticed it in the logs and was very intrigued as to why it was checked out that last day by Mr. Liddell himself. It should’ve gone through personnel, been returned to you, but that didn’t happen did it?”  
  
Pacey was a little stunned by that load of information, but his quick mind was latching on to what he was being told. He shook his head, “No, sir, it didn’t.”   
  
“So, now that your little ‘revealing’ has come to an end,” Elliot said, turning back to Meggie, “I repeat. What is on the laptop?”  
  
“Have a look for yourself,” she said, sliding the entire package down the table to him. Elliot pulled the machine out and looked it over. Pacey recognized it instantly.  
  
“Is this yours, Mr. Witter?” Nuzback asked.  
  
Pacey looked at Meggie, and at her approval, nodded. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“You willing to testify to that in court?”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Elliot grinned and opened it up, scanning its contents along with the notes that had accompanied it from Meggie’s tech guy. After a moment his brow furrowed.  
  
“Well, well, well, these aren’t the numbers that I was given by Remmick Luers. No, no.” he studied the screen silently for a moment longer. Then looked up. “And this is authentic? No alterations made.”   
  
“Absolutely. It even contains the meta data that tells us exactly what computer it originated from,” Meggie said.  
  
He smiled and Pacey wondered if this was a good or a bad sign.  
  
“You bitch,” was all Nuzback had to say as he shook his head with a grudging smile.  
  
“They gave me wrong information,” Pacey said, his mind finally putting it all together once everyone had been quiet long enough for him to think straight. “They distorted it before it got to me, and then erased the evidence so that the whole mess led straight back to me.”  
  
“That’s right, Pacey.” Meggie said sympathetically. Pacey let his head fall back, resting against the wall behind him, taking it in, seeing his own stupidity in all of it. He had been so naïve. He had never once seen them as this type of evil. Chauvinistic? Definitely. Back stabbing? Oh yeah, but this? He should’ve seen it. He knew why he didn’t and he was angry with himself for it. He had wanted to be the big shot. He wanted to impress his father and… everyone. He had wanted to be something. What a mess he had made.  
  
“So, what is your plan then, Albrecht?”  
  
“Well, I could go out there right now and pretty much insure the verdict that I want.” Meggie’s cute voice rang out, matching her sprite-like grin.  
  
“I’ll probably request time to have this checked out myself,” he said smartly.  
  
“As would I, if I were you, but the result will be the same.”  
  
“Your point, Albrecht?”  
  
“If you drop the charges against my client, Remmick Luers will remain blissfully unaware that you have this information. You could put a man inside.”  
  
“You don’t think they will find it suspicious that we dropped the charges? You know me, I don’t back down.”  
  
“Well, you already have Rinaldi, don’t you? Pacey’s testimony would do wonders for your case. Sounds like a good excuse to cut him a deal.”  
  
“I’ll say it again, Meggie. You’re a bitch,” Elliot Nuzback said, looking back at her with rancorous respect.  
  
“Whatever, Nuzback,” Meggie said, motioning for her crew to depart. “You have a decision to make.”  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
He stepped out of the huge oak doors, pushing one of them open with one large hand and letting Meggie pass before he released it. The bright light of the outdoors blinded him for a moment after the long hours spent beneath fluorescent bulbs.  
  
It wasn’t a new day, in fact it was the late afternoon sun that caressed and warmed his upturned face, but it was a day that was his to live. One that carried hope for tomorrow as well, and he breathed it in, filling his lungs with the crisp air.  
  
He was free.  
  
As his eyes adjusted to the light, his gaze came to rest upon a gathering of people, all staring up at him from the bottom of the steps. One broad familiar smile standing out from the rest, and Pacey pushed aside all thoughts of Audrey and her father, all his insecurities, and his confusion over the things Dawson had said. His face broke into a matching Witter grin, and a chuckle broke forth as he reached the last step, and Doug, clapped his hands, chuckling as well, then snaked one hand out and grabbed Pacey by the back of the neck, pulling him into a fierce, brotherly hug.  
  
Pacey hugged him back, laughing harder with relief, and many other crazy emotions that ricocheted through his being. He clapped his brother on the back, just before Doug took him in a chokehold and rubbed his knuckles against his head.  
  
And what not to long ago would have been awkward, and surreal, now felt like the most natural thing in the world.  
  
A moment later everyone was there, hugging him and patting his back, the women kissing his cheeks, and laughing. They pulled him along down the street to where they parked; none of them lucky enough to get anywhere near the courthouse. They were chatting away, Sophie and Bessie planning and scheming with Gale, for the party they had planned when they arrived home.  
  
Pacey and Doug hung back a moment, watching the ruckus.  
  
“You did it little brother; you came out the other side.”   
  
“I guess I did, though I can still hardly believe it. I don’t remember what it feels like not to have that thing hanging over my head.”  
  
“It also seems you’ve gathered yourself quite a support system,” Doug added with a smile.  
  
“It would seem so. I, big brother, am a very lucky man.”  
  
“That you are.”  
  
“I don’t know how I will ever repay Bessie.”  
  
“I don’t really think she’s expecting any repayment, Pace. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a great help to her over this time, with Bodie gone and all,” Doug said, looking over at Bessie for a second. “Speaking of Bessie, you remember how a few months ago you and I spoke about a certain matter pertaining to a certain heater repairman?”  
  
Pacey furrowed his brow as he scanned his memory then nodded as he remembered the guy who had sexually harassed Bessie when she called him to fix the furnace, hence leading to his own presence at the B&B. “Yeah?”  
  
“Well, apparently his business license was expired, and he was still performing as a business. I had to write him up a nasty fine,” Doug said, shaking his head woefully. “It’s funny though, he swears he paid for his new license.”  
  
Pacey’s face broke into another wide grin. “He should try cooking up a gourmet meal for Larry over at the courthouse. That man’s wife can’t cook to save her life; he’s always on the look out for a good meal. He might be inclined to pay more attention to those things if he gets a little attention in return.”  
  
“Shame old Mason didn’t think of that, isn’t it?”  
  
The two brothers smiled together and hurried to catch up with the group and their ride back home.


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

 

 _Circling your head, contemplating everything you ever said_ _  
 _Now I see the truth, I got a doubt_  
 _A different motive in your eyes and now I'm out, see you later…__  
Headstrong, Trapt  
  
  
Pacey took a deep breath and stepped off the last step of the porch, moving toward the soft familiar sounds of the creek, knowing his way, even in the dim moonlight. Everything seemed to stand out to him in a whole new way and he couldn’t help but smile slightly as it began to snow, the flakes falling gently about him, painting the landscape in a new fresh coat of white.   
  
Inside, people were celebrating on his behalf, eating and drinking, but he couldn’t find any celebration within himself. He was happy that he no longer had to worry about prison, relieved, but overall, he only felt more hurt and more confused over the things that Dawson had said at his trial. He huffed out a slow breath and shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders to bring his head farther down into his jacket.  
  
A sound just behind him caught his attention and he whirled around to see who it was, visions of an alleyway filling his mind for a brief moment before it registered that the newcomer was only Dawson. A whole different type of ambush, he thought.   
  
“Hey,” he said, stepping out of the shadows and into the paltry moonlight.  
  
“Hey,” Pacey answered, furrowing his brow and standing back cautiously. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Dawson responded, oblivious to the cold tone in his friend’s voice. “I came to see how everything went. To see how you are.”  
  
“You were at the trial,” Pacey answered flatly.  
  
“I meant with the laptop,” Dawson said, running a hand through his hair. “It worked?”  
  
Pacey felt the temperature in his body plummet several degrees and the hand that had been resting at his stomach dropped to his side. This wasn’t happening. “How do you know about the laptop?”  
  
“Audrey didn’t tell you?” Dawson asked curiously.  
  
“We didn’t really get to talk much,” Pacey almost growled, feeling that Dawson was stalling, keeping the truth from him when he just wanted it out in the open. “I assumed she found it in her dad’s things.”  
  
“Actually, I found it while she was downstairs creating a distraction,” Dawson laughed nervously. “It was crazy.”  
  
Pacey’s jaw flexed. “So you found the laptop and you sent it here.” His temperature was rising now.  
  
“I had Burke, a friend I made in LA, really weird guy, good with computers though; he cracked the code or whatever and checked it out, and then we sent it off to your lawyer.” Dawson smiled and shrugged.   
  
Pacey chewed the inside of his lip. “Well… how nice for you. You made yourself out the hero. You must be so pleased.”  
  
Dawson frowned. His dark blonde hair had begun to hang down into his face, heavy with the snow that collected there. “What are you talking about? I was trying to help you.”  
  
“Well, excuse me for having a hard time accepting help from a guy who has done nothing for the past six months but attack me!” Pacey yelled. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t say thank you.”  
  
“Nobody’s asking you to say thank you, Pacey.”  
  
Pacey chuckled, the sound hard and brittle in the cold air, the vision of his breath blocking his face from Dawson’s sight for a moment. “Oh, is that so?” he questioned. “Then why the hell are you here?”  
  
“I wanted to see if you were ok!” Dawson demanded, his frustration straining his voice.  
  
“ _Now_ you want to see if I’m ok!” Pacey said, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, waving them about in emphasis of each phrase he spoke. “Now that the case is dismissed, now that it’s all over, now that the coast is clear, my best friend shows up and wants to know if I’m ok! That’s really fucking great! No wonder Joey dumped your ass. Twice! If you’re this great of a friend, you must be a _fantastic_ boyfriend!”   
  
Dawson’s hands fisted at his sides before he let one fly, catching Pacey on the chin. Pacey wasn’t completely unprepared for the blow, but it still caused him to stumble backward a step. He wasn’t off balance for long though, and chuckled slightly as he pressed the back of his hand to his lip, checking for blood.  
  
Pacey shook his head while Dawson searched for words to say, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. If he found the words however, he never got to use them, because Pacey’s fist connected hard with his cheek, sending an explosion of lights through his vision, and snapping his head back forcefully. He stumbled back, catching himself just before he fell. He leaned in and braced himself with his hands on his thighs, as he tried to clear his head.   
  
He cursed quietly. “Damn it, Pacey, why are you being such an ass?” he asked, pinching his nose where he thought he felt the warm flow of blood trying to escape.  
  
Pacey laughed, grinning widely, even though it hurt to do so. His eyes were granite as he stared at Dawson. “Let’s just ignore for a second the fact that you hit me first, and let me just say that I learned from the best.”  
  
Dawson flared his nostrils, his jaw clenched tightly as he glared back at Pacey, his hazel eyes equally as cold as the blue-gray ones that were boring into him, screaming out a silent challenge.  
  
He hurled himself forward, slamming his shoulder into his former, quasi, pseudo best friend, and they flew backward, Pacey’s fist pounding into Dawson’s back, both of them grunting as they hit the ground hard, the white snow crunching beneath their weight.  
  
Dawson tried to keep Pacey pinned, but the taller man quickly rolled them both over, taking the top position and getting in two good punches before Dawson managed to upset his position and flip them back over the other way. Once more getting in a few punches of his own.  
  
They continued this way, rolling, tussling in the snow, fists flying with errant punches that did little damage through the thickness of their winter coats, quiet except for the occasional grunt or snarl of frustration or pain. The small commotion they created went unnoticed by the people still inside the B &B, and they continued to war against each other, alone in their own world of anger and hurt, both camouflaged with white, completely covered head to toe in the crisp, powdery snow that shielded them.  
  
Pacey finally managed to pin Dawson once again, gripping the lapels of his coat tightly in his fists as he slammed him hard into the ground.  
  
“What is your problem man?!” Pacey demanded. “That’s all I want from you now. Just tell me why the fuck you are always so quick to judge me, to cast me as the villain in our little story, huh? Out of one side of your mouth I am your best friend, your brother,” his voice was almost pleading now, “but the minute something doesn’t go your way, I’m the first one you accuse. Why?! That’s all I want to know.”  
  
“Because I’m jealous, Ok!” Dawson yelled without thought, the words ringing true to his own ears and shocking the hell out of Pacey who loosened his grip, allowing Dawson to throw him off. “You’ve always been the one to take action. You confront the bully, you save the day, save the girl, sail off into the sunset. Always you. It wasn’t supposed to be that way; it was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be the hero.”  
  
“Wha…I…” Pacey started, still stunned that Dawson, the guy with the loving supportive family and life he’d have sold his soul to have, was jealous of him. It didn’t make sense.  
  
“I’m not supposed to be jealous of you. Not only were you my best friend, but everyone saw you as a screw up, even your own family, why would I want your life? But I was jealous, Pacey. I was jealous because you saw the truth in everything and I was forever oblivious. I was always afraid, and you never were.”  
  
“Dawson this is crazy! You had the perfect life, with parents who loved and supported you, friends who stood by you. You were the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn’t a complete waste of space. You were my friend. How could you…”  
  
“Then when you were with Joey, I hated you for that, and not just because you took her away from me,” he finger quoted the line. “But because you had a relationship with her. You two spent three months on a boat, no sex, no other people to distract you, just hanging out, getting to know each other, one on one. I thought for sure you would’ve killed each other by the end of that trip, but when you came back, you were so close. I was the only one who had ever been that close to her. I felt betrayed all over again. And then for almost a year after that. She and I had what? Like a week? Two or three? She loved you Pacey, like she never loved me, and you made her happy like I never could. I couldn’t stand it, and in a way I hated you both for that.”  
  
“Well, you’re still her damn soul mate,” Pacey said quietly, but not angrily as he studied Dawson, looking for some sign that this was real and true all the while. He grabbed up a handful of snow and pressed it to his lip and the blood stained it, seeping into the icy grains slowly.  
  
“Whatever that means,” Dawson answered, shaking his head and freeing his hair of the melting snow that had clung to it. Pacey just continued to stare at him.  
  
“You were jealous?” he asked finally. “That’s what’s been between us all this time?”  
  
Dawson looked up at Pacey and saw the confusion that filled the familiar eyes, blue once again in their calm. There was no arrogance to be found in those eyes, and Dawson knew there never had been. This man was his friend, this man was his brother, and he had to look at himself as the reason it wasn’t working. Sure, Pacey had made mistakes, but Dawson was making the same mistake over and over. He was the one who set them up against each other. He had started doing it a long time ago. He knew that it was most likely too late to fix this, but he knew that he had to try, because he didn’t want to live a life without Pacey in it any more than he wanted to live a life without Joey.  
  
Dawson nodded. “I should’ve seen it earlier, but you know me. That was my problem for a long time. I didn’t want to admit to it, even to myself, so instead, every time I saw you since this whole recent mess happened, it was like the past reared its head suddenly and those old feelings from when I was 15 and 16 rose up stronger than ever, all because I refused to deal with the real problem head on. Instead, I ignored it, and it just festered and grew bigger, until it controlled me completely.   
  
“I let it keep me from being there for you in all the times you needed me, especially through this. I thought we were finished, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry Pace; I haven’t been a good friend to you. Not for a long time now. But I want to be.”  
  
Pacey smiled slightly, and laughed softly. “I suppose a little competition between friends is normal. I just never thought that I was much competition, being the town screw up and all.”  
  
“You’re not a screw up, Pacey, that is the point. I really meant what I said in there today. I know I’ve said that before, and I know it’s probably too late to get our friendship back but…”  
  
“You were the one who said anything was possible,” Pacey said with a shrug, still studying Dawson closely. “Besides D, you can pretty much forgive a brother anything, right?”  
  
Dawson smiled. “I didn’t understand that before,” he said. His smile grew as he spoke, realizing the tightness in his chest was gone, that he felt light and free and hopeful for the first time in a very long time. All it had taken was to speak it out loud, to face this thing head on, and it was gone, all that anger, jealousy, and frustration was gone, and all he could see now was just Pacey, his one time best friend. The first person who really accepted him as he was, film geek and all. “I know it will probably take awhile before we are friends again, Pace, if ever, but I want you to know that I want that. I want you as my friend, and not because you make my life _look_ better, but because you make my _life_ better.”  
  
Pacey looked down at his legs, taking a slow breath, brushing off the snow as he swallowed the lump that was trying to form in his throat.  
  
“So, how does it feel D?” he asked after a moment. “You did it, you took action you were the hero this time.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Dawson said, seeing the look in Pacey’s eyes and following his lead. After all, evasion is a great way to get out of unmanly mushy moments. “What can I say? I learned from the best.” Dawson brushed off the lapels of his coat distractedly as he cleared his throat. “I’m just glad there was something to be done. The fact that I got to be a part of it isn’t as important to me as the fact that the truth came out and you’re free.”   
  
They sat in silence, both soaked through to the bone and freezing, but neither willing to leave the moment, just in case the spell they were cast in broke and they were suddenly thrown back into the harsh loneliness of being enemies.  
  
“I think it’s time to end our Hallmark moment here, D, because I can no longer feel my ass,” Pacey finally said, smiling at his friend, feeling he could call him that now without the bitterness it had brought over the last few years.  
  
Dawson laughed. “Likewise.” He accepted Pacey’s hand up, wincing at the pull in his side where Pacey had gotten in a good kick. “What do you think Bessie will say when she sees us looking like this?”  
  
“Ahh, we’ll just tell her we were bonding.” Pacey quipped. Dawson laughed again, smiling as they both limped toward the B &B. “And Dawson?” Pacey added quietly. “Thanks.”  
  
Dawson patted his back in answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“So, here we are,” Pacey said, stepping out of the shadows, seeing his former best friend, and current formative friend of some sort, lit by the small amount of moonlight that had broken through the clouds. Dawson was very easily recognized by his two black eyes. “What are we doing?”  
  
“We are renewing our pact.” Dawson said, smiling when he recognized him. Pacey was sure he was a sight all on his own with one black eye and split lip.  
  
“Ahh, and here I thought you lured me here to do me in,” Pacey said, gesturing toward the ax Dawson held in his hands.  
  
“Well, that is an option,” Dawson answered with a smirk, “But I was thinking of it as more of a symbol,” he said, dropping it into the hole at their feet.  
  
“Burying the hatchet, that’s appropriate.” Pacey said with a nod as the hatchet plumped into the loose dirt at the bottom.  
  
“I thought so.”  
  
“And why this particular spot?” Pacey asked, looking around at his surroundings.  
  
“It’s as close as I could get to the old spot,” Dawson answered. “Damn condos.”  
  
Pacey laughed. “So then? Best friends forever?”  
  
“Brothers before any others?”  
  
“I’m reneging on the kissing girls thing though; I’ve found I’m rather fond of that activity.”  
  
“You know, I am too.” Dawson said with a smile. “Here’s to kissing lots of girls.”  
  
“Ahem, better make it women.”  
  
“Ah yes, right. To kissing lots of women.”  
  
“Amongst other things,” Pacey said wickedly, offering his hand. They shook hands, then spit in their palms and rubbed it in their hair.  
  
“You know, that was far more disgusting than I remember it being the first time,” Dawson said, looking at his hand and making a face. Pacey laughed.  
  
“So, will this change the end of your movie?”  
  
“Nah,” Dawson said, “but it might change the slant of it a little. You know, all this time I kept thinking something was off about it, but now…well, now I think I was probably the one that was off..” He smirked and then shook his head. “I just need to think of a title for the damn thing.”  
  
“Hmm,” Pacey said, his face thoughtful. He chewed his lip and looked Dawson over. “Maybe, you should just call it ‘The Creek’. I mean, it’s kind of a center point to the whole thing, especially between you and Joey.”  
  
“That’s true, but also for the two of us, it is like the shortcut to all three of our houses, it helped to keep us connected.” Dawson lowered his head in thought for a moment. “That’s perfect. Thanks, Pace.”  
  
Pacey shrugged and then smiled for a moment, his thoughts wandering until he hit on one in particular. “Have you heard from Joey at all?”  
  
“No, I thought you would have heard something, living at the B&B and all.”  
  
“Nope, I guess Bessie hears from her though. I’d like to say I’ve never listened for the hint of her in a phone conversation, or looked over the mail for her handwriting, but it would be a lie. I’m just not that honorable.”  
  
“I would’ve done the same thing,” Dawson admitted. “She’s ok though? Did Bessie say?”  
  
“Yeah, I guess she’s having the time of her life. Says she’s freed herself of the ghosts of her past,” Pacey said with a flip of his hand.  
  
“I guess that means she’s over us,” Dawson said with a shake of his head.  
  
“It’s probably for the better, I mean, even if neither of us actually ever dated the woman, you know she’d still be interfering in our lives ceaselessly,” Pacey said, picking up one of the shovels and tossing a scoop of dirt onto the hatchet.  
  
Dawson laughed. “Yeah, I can see it now,” he said, also picking up a shovel. “How’s your latest bimbo, Dawson. Perky as ever, or has she died from a severe lipo accident yet?” Dawson said in an attempt at a female voice.  
  
“God, Pacey, you’d think you could date a girl whose IQ was at least as high as her cup size,” Pacey said, also pitching his voice up.  
  
They both laughed as they continued to shovel.  
  
Dawson paused and shoved a hand through his hair. “I slept with Audrey,” he said suddenly.  
  
Pacey looked up surprised. “Really?” Dawson nodded. Pacey pondered this idea for a second, holding out the dirt filled shovel in front of him. “Well, ok.”  
  
“Ok?”  
  
“Sure, she’s a free woman, as long as it was on the level, I’m ok with it.”  
  
“I really think I like her, Pace, she’s…” Dawson waved his hands not sure what word he wanted to place on Audrey. Not finding one that did her justice.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Pacey said. He watched another scoop cascade into the hole. “What about Joey?”  
  
“Honestly, I don’t know. Joey and I have this strange connection, a bond, and I guess that once the term soul mate was mentioned, I latched onto it as our destiny, but who says soul mates have to be… I don’t know, I do know that she’s still here,” he placed his hand over his heart. “But I don’t know what it means or what it’s meant to be.”  
  
“I’m still in love with her,” Pacey said simply, not looking up.  
  
“I know,” Dawson said, tossing more dirt onto the hatchet. “It’s ok. Not that you need my permission. You were the one who wanted to kiss her first after all,” Dawson tossed out. He smiled at Pacey when he looked up, and Pacey saw genuine friendliness in his eyes and smiled in return.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
  
  
“Pacey Witter is my best friend,” Dawson read from the paper in his hands, rocking back and forth nervously on the balls of his feet. He looked up and smiled at Pacey.  
  
Pacey smiled back from his worn school desk. He already knew the paper was about him, because they had done theirs together.  
  
“He is fun, and crazy, and always makes me laugh,” Dawson continued. “He talks a lot, and sometimes it gets us out of trouble, but sometimes it gets us in more trouble, but if that happens, at least then I am with Pacey and I am not alone, so it is ok with me.”  
  
The class laughed and Dawson paused, smiling because he had been funny.  
  
“Pacey is really good at fishing and at riding his bike, usually. He is a very fast runner, but I am a better swimmer than him, so that is ok, because we are even.  
  
Pacey’s favorite thing to do is to sit out on the floating dock and watch all the boats. I do that with him and he watches movies with me. It is a lot of fun. Other than that, Pacey eats a lot a food…” more laughing. “When he grows up, he wants to be a pirate.”  
  
Pacey smiled proudly.  
  
“Pacey is my best friend, and he is just like a brother to me since I don’t have one at home. I have Pacey instead and I think that is really cool. Thank you,” Dawson finished. He smiled at his teacher.  
  
“Thank you, Dawson, that was very nice.” She smiled, and that made Pacey proud too. Proud for Dawson and proud because a paper that was about him was actually nice. Pacey watched as Dawson gave Miss Piel his paper and returned to his seat, offering him a high five which he returned as he passed. He looked down at his own paper, awaiting his turn.  
  
The top read: My Best Friend, Dawson Leery.


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

 

Joey Potter backed away from the hall and into the living room until the backs of her skinny knees bumped into the edge of the sofa, causing her to sit down and sink into the worn cushion. She winced, hearing another moan echo towards her from the bathroom followed by another round of vomiting. She scrambled across the cushions of the couch and curled up against the arm as if she could some how squeeze her weedy body into the cracks and disappear altogether, no longer hearing or seeing the misery that filled her home. There was a choking sob and a groan, her sister’s voice accompanying, trying to soothe. It was more than Joey could take, she felt helpless and angry, and scared out of her mind.   
  
She leapt from the sofa and sprinted for the door, stumbling out onto the porch and smack into someone’s chest. She heard a familiar grunt, and “Hey!” as two large hands seized her by her upper arms and kept her from falling. She looked up into Pacey’s young face with a scowl.  
  
“Watch where you’re going, Asswipe!” she said, punching him hard in his slender chest. She glared at him, finding his face an unreadable mask, the blue of his eyes giving no indication of his thoughts. She looked toward the house, the sounds of her mother’s retching audible through the still open door. She knew he could hear it, but he made no response.  
  
“You call that a punch, little girl?” he said finally, a hint of laughter in his voice. Or was that strain? “Please. My baby niece hits harder than that.”  
  
“Shut up, Pacey,” she said angrily, wishing he’d just move. He did, just slightly, setting something in one of the deck chairs and she realized for the first time that he was carrying several plastic grocery bags filled with food.  
  
“I mean it,” he taunted, “If you’re gonna hit me, you might as well do it right.”  
  
“Kiss off!”  
  
“No. Really, Jo. Come on. Hit me.” He grabbed her hand and forced her long fingers into a fist, her thumb on the outside this time. “Put all of your scrawny little weight into it.”  
  
“Move, Pacey.” She shoved at him but he wouldn’t budge.  
  
“No way, Princess. What’s wrong? Afraid you’ll break a nail?”  
  
She punched him then, but it was a half-hearted effort and he wasn’t buying it.  
  
“Come on, Josephine. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, so why don’t you just try?”   
  
The use of her full name had her steaming, but still she tried to restrain herself, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. The anger and the pain, the fear, building up inside of her so strong she thought she would explode any minute. She could here her mother’s cries, her sister’s strained voice trying to be strong. She didn’t want to be strong anymore. It was all so desperately unfair and she wanted to hit something. Anything! And right now, Pacey was at the top of her list.   
  
With a smirk, Pacey reached out quickly with one of his long fingers, hooked one in the front of her bra and pulled, snapping it against her chest.   
  
She lost it, sending one small balled-up fist into his stomach, connecting with flexed muscles that were prepared for the assault. The next punch landed on his jaw, resounding in a loud ‘crack’. After that, she just started pounding on him, her fists flying at him randomly, not noticing that he wasn’t even trying to stop her. She just kept hitting him until she finally collapsed against his chest and they both fell to the floor as her tears over took her. She scrambled off of him and ran down the steps, leaving him lying there on her porch staring after her, with a bloody lip.  
  
She ran into the trees and let herself cry. She fought so hard not to cry, to be strong for her mom and her sister, to be there for them when they needed her, but the dam was broken for the moment and she fell to the ground, sobs overtaking her body. She curled up against her favorite tree and let herself go. The next thing she knew, her father was there, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the house.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
 _August, 2004…_  
  
  
  
Joey woke with a start at the sound of the pilot’s voice announcing their arrival at Logan International Airport, and it was time to “fasten those seatbelts.” She furrowed her brow, still disoriented from her dream, as she fumbled with the restraint. When she heard the buckle click into place, she sighed and leaned back against the headrest. Soon she would be home, back to the reality of life. She could only hope that her newly recovered sense of self would survive in the face of all the old ghosts that haunted this place.  
  
Still, she couldn’t deny that she was also excited. She’d been on her own; she’d survived, made new friends, got good grades. She felt alive and renewed in a way she had never felt before.  
  
“That’s quite a lot of postcards you have there, dear.”  
  
“Hmm?” Joey asked, turning her head to look at the woman beside her.   
  
“In your hand, the postcards…why didn’t you mail them from Paris?”  
  
“Oh,” Joey responded. Looking down at the assortment of cards in her lap, she smiled slightly and pushed a straying lock of hair behind her ear. This was only part of her stash; she had more in her suitcase. “I just couldn’t, that’s all. I am going to mail them now that I’m home, though.”  
  
“Well, that’s an interesting way to go about it I guess,” the older woman said with a small laugh.  
  
“Well,” Joey said, taking a breath and then pausing for a second to sort out her words. “You see, there are these two boys in my life and they can be… a bit overwhelming at times.”  
  
“So this trip was an escape?”  
  
“Yeah, kind of, but not just for that, I just really had to see if I could be all on my own, and make it. Plus, I think they needed some time without me there to come between them. But no matter what, I missed everyone, so I’ve got several postcards for each person in my life.” She held them up one by one. “I wrote to Dawson about the French cinema and all the crazy street performances and the people in general, I wrote to Audrey and Jen about the men, I wrote to Jack about the art,” she laughed, “And the men.  
  
I wrote to Pacey about the ocean, the boats, and all the things I could see from my flat. I told him about all the different food there was… I had to tell him about the nude beaches, and comment on the fact that not everyone that goes there stepped out of the pages of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. I wrote to him about everything.” She brushed her thumb unconsciously over the ocean view that adorned the front of the card.  
  
“Sounds interesting,” the woman said slowly. “So which two of those are the boys you are escaping from?”  
  
“I wasn’t escaping from them, per se, just the situation,” she said.  
  
“Alright, so tell me about them.”  
  
“You want to hear all that now? The flight is almost over.”  
  
“Landing makes me incredibly nervous,” the woman said, looking back at Joey with honesty and fear in her dove-gray eyes, and Joey responded to it. “My name is Martha, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand.  
  
Joey accepted the firm grip and returned it with confidence. “Joey.”  
  
“Joey, what a neat name for a girl.”  
  
“Thanks,” Joey said, then leaned back. “So the boys…well there’s Dawson, best friend since birth they say, only we didn’t actually meet until we were around four or five I think. Every memory of my childhood has him in it. I think I fell in love with him when I was all of nine years old, but when my mother died, and then my father was hauled off to prison, he pretty much became the center of my universe.”  
  
“Oh my, this isn’t a very happy story.”  
  
“Sorry, but that’s the way it goes.”  
  
“And the other boy?”  
  
“Oh, he’s there too; sometimes I tend to forget that he’s been there my whole life as well. Pacey and Dawson were best friends, so he and I were friends by proxy. We like to think we were mortal enemies, but it wasn’t really that way. But you know how, when you tell yourself one version of the truth long enough, it becomes the reality in your mind?” The woman nodded and Joey gestured with her hands as if she was shuffling her words and thoughts into the order she wanted them. “Well, that’s how it was with Pacey, he’s in most of my memories from childhood as well, but when I was young, I sort of blocked him out.”  
  
“And now things are different?”  
  
“Well, every once in awhile I’ll remember something about him that I forgot. I really don’t know why, but it seems to have been happening a lot recently.”  
  
“So you’re in love with the best friend now?”  
  
“No, no, Pacey and I have been over with for…” she paused for a long moment as the memory of a soft kiss in the darkened aisle of a K-mart came to mind. “We’ve been over for a while, see, I fell in love with him when I was 16 and after that, the world as I knew it fractured completely. It’s just a bad idea to fall in love with your ex-boyfriend’s best friend.”  
  
“I can imagine it would be.”  
  
“So there you have it,” Joey said as the wheels of the plane touched down on the runway. “All there is to tell about my love life in a nutshell. Aren’t you sorry you asked?” she said with a big smile and a laughed. Martha smiled and laughed in return.  
  
“No, not at all, thank you for distracting me, and I hope things work out for you.”  
  
“Thank you,” Joey said, turning to look back out the window at the airport. She really hoped everything worked out, too.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
The entire front yard of the B&B was alive with activity. People were everywhere, setting up chairs and tents, and there was a gazebo she had never seen before being decorated with lavender and white flowers.  
  
She pulled her bags out of the trunk of the cab and looked around, suddenly feeling a little nervous about whether or not she’d have a room to stay in for the next few days before she could move into the dorm at Worthington.  
  
“Joey!” she heard he sister’s voice cry over the hustle and bustle. “Jo!” Bessie shouted just before pulling Joey into her arms in a ferocious hug. “Oh my God, what are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming! Oh I missed you so much, Jo!”  
  
She couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s fervent display of affection. She hugged her back with equal exuberance. “I missed you, too. I thought I wouldn’t be in until next week but I had a change of plans.” She turned her attention back to the hubbub around them. “What’s going on here, Bess?”  
  
“Oh, we’re having a wedding!”  
  
“Wow, a wedding here? Really? That’s great,” Joey said, smiling broadly. “So things are going good, then. Despite…you know, everything?”  
  
“Of course, jeez, Jo! Who cares! Tell me about Paris!” Bessie said, grabbing up one of her sister’s bags and heading up the stairs. Joey laughed and followed after her.  
  
  
  
Are you sure about this, Bessie?” Joey asked, tugging at the hem of her creamy satin blouse. “I mean, I don’t even know these people.”  
  
“Jo, we’re invited because it’s our B&B. Besides, what are you going to do, hide out inside all day until it’s over?” Bessie asked. “Here’s the muffin you asked for, now stop griping and come on already.”  
  
Joey sighed and took a bite of the muffin, groaning in pleasure as it practically melted on her tongue and filled her mouth with a rush of fresh flavor. “Oh my God, Bessie, who’s your new cook? These muffins are amazing.”  
  
“Pretty good, isn’t he?” Bessie said blandly from behind her.  
  
“Hey, if Bodie chooses to stay out of the picture, I say you should jump this guy quick. You need to keep him around.”  
  
Bessie laughed. She laughed so much Joey had to turn and look at her. “What?”  
  
“Nothing! Really, you reminded me of my 15-year-old little sister just then, and…it’s just funny that you said that, that’s all.”  
  
Joey started to ask what she meant by that last statement when a woman’s voice interrupted her, calling for Bessie.  
  
“I’m upstairs, Sophie!” Bessie called, leaning out the door of the bedroom she’d put Joey in. Since her room was downstairs, it had been set aside for the wedding party.  
  
The person belonging to the voice appeared in the doorway, a woman about her sister’s age with medium brown hair and dark brown eyes, dressed in a navy blue pantsuit. “Hey, there you are.” She looked around the room, which was decorated in pale pink and white daisies. “Oh this room is cute, you wouldn’t think it would be, but it is.”  
  
“Well, it is definitely pink,” Joey said grumpily and Sophie laughed.   
  
Bessie rolled her eyes. “Sophie, this is my little sister, Joey smart ass extraordinaire.”  
  
“Hey! I don’t introduce you as the queen of nosiness,” Joey declared.  
  
“Jo, this is Sophie Carter, sister of the bride, and Capeside’s newest and most sought after wedding coordinator.”  
  
“Please, Bessie, it’s not quite all that.”  
  
“Hey, you told me yourself, you’re booked.”  
  
“I’m sure it’s just the novelty,” she replied. “I just came to say that people have started to arrive and we are having some photography done. So you might want to see if you can get a few to use in a brochure or whatever. Jewel said she would be fine with it.”  
  
“Ok great, I’ll be down in a minute.”  
  
“She seems nice,” Joey said, checking her lipstick in the mirror. “Ok, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”  
  
“You look beautiful,” Bessie said, taking her arm.  
  
Joey rolled her eyes, but still smiled at her sister and said, “Thanks. So do you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
She stood awkwardly on the front steps watching the people milling around and being seated. The bride, a young woman around Joey’s own age and beautiful enough to make anyone jealous, had been ushered inside by her bridesmaids and was now in her room being pampered.  
  
Everyone seemed to be anxiously waiting the arrival of the groom and Joey snickered quietly at the thought that maybe the bride might be stood up. She felt bad for finding the idea funny, but she couldn’t help herself. It was in her nature to be gloomy.  
  
“Where is he?” she heard the woman, Sophie, from earlier demand, coming down the stairs beside her. She was addressing a tall man with black hair who had laughing green eyes and was dressed in a very nice, dark blue suit.   
  
The man looked up with a calm gaze that Joey knew would annoy her if she were the one who was worried. “He went to go get Trey.”   
  
“What? I thought Andrew was going to bring Trey. That’s the way it works, the best man brings the groom, not the head usher! These morons are seating people willy-nilly out there!”  
  
The man approached her and smoothed his hands up and down her arms soothingly. “Baby, calm down, he’ll be here.” As is on cue, a long black limo pulled up off to the side. “As a matter of fact, I’m guessing that’s him right now.”  
  
Joey felt a little bit bad for eavesdropping on their conversation, but they were standing right next to her and she was bored. After all, she had no idea who these people were, and what’s the fun of crashing a wedding if not to sit back and enjoy the inevitable melee that goes with them. Especially since it isn’t going to affect you personally.  
  
She turned her attention to the limo, it was black and sleek, everything a person could want in a limo, that’s for sure. But, it wasn’t the limo itself that took her breath away, it was the familiar figure climbing out of the backseat, turning to smile at the interior, his eyes crinkling up at the corners , his husky laugh carrying across the distance to her. Joey felt every fiber of her being come to attention as his presence was made known to her. A familiar tingling sensation that seemed to start deep in her chest rushed outward through her limbs, making her feel strangely shaky from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Her stomach flipped over and her breath caught in her throat.  
  
“You all right?” she heard him ask as he helped another man out of the back of the limo. The other man faltered and he helped him to remain upright, still laughing as he did so.  
  
“Pacey,” she heard herself whisper. She hadn’t expected to see him anytime soon. She was sure he’d come looking for her eventually, give her a hard time for running off without a word, but she hadn’t expected him to be here. She was certain he would have run as far as he could from this town as soon as he had the chance.  
  
But there he was standing before her, with the sun highlighting his brown hair, cut short and brushed up off his face, dressed in a dark gray tuxedo, with a silver ascot of sorts, and a familiar broad smile adorning his cherished face, looking happy. She smiled just at the sight of him, a strange contradiction to the tightening in her stomach, and the thrilling of electricity that whispered over her, making her shiver.  
  
He looked really good. Too good. What was wrong with her?  
  
She watched as he patted the groom on the back and ushered him toward the front steps, toward her. She didn’t know what to do; she was frozen to the spot. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he looked up, his blue eyes locking on her, and stilled.  
  
His fathomless blue eyes grew wide suddenly, as if the sight of her was finally registering as reality. “Jo?”  
  
“Hey, Pace,” she said softly, her nervousness causing her voice to tremble ever so slightly. She took a step down, moving towards him as she spoke.  
  
“Pacey!” Sophie came bolting down the stairs, shattering the moment, grabbing Pacey by the arm and taking his attention. “Pacey, I need you to oversee the seating! Paul sat Mrs. Balfour, with her enormous hat, in the third row aisle seat! How will I ever move her?” she demanded, her hands gesturing wildly. “And why did you go get Trey, I thought Andy was supposed to get Trey!”  
  
Pacey pulled his gaze from Joey and turned to Sophie, staring hard as if trying to focus, and Joey noticed his eyes kept turning back to her every few seconds. “Um…Andrew is still drunk from last night,” he said finally, answering her last question.  
  
“What?” Sophie said, stepping back and looking shell-shocked. “No, no, no, no. Tell me that’s not true.”  
  
“Ok. That’s not true,” Pacey deadpanned.  
  
Sophie just growled at him, then laughed when he smiled at her. She grabbed him by his lapels and dragged him toward the other ushers who were roaming about in confusion. Following dutifully after her, Pacey looked back over his shoulder at Joey one more time, his gaze filled with questions.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
The service had been beautiful and Joey had felt surprisingly moved a time or two, despite the fact that the bride and groom were strangers to her. She smiled as she watched the newly married couple enter the tent for their reception. The place was huge and filled with soft sparkling lights that created a romantic atmosphere. They looked giddy with happiness, and Joey, contrary to her usually cynical nature, found herself hoping they stayed that way. She had been filled in, by the stranger she had been seated next to, on all the details of the couple and their relationship, and she smiled as the groom accepted a little girl in pigtails and a pink frilly dress from one of the attendants.  
  
They sat at the main table, everyone cheering as Trey kissed his bride, his little girl who was balanced on his hip, and then kissed Jewel one more time for good measure. The band, set up on the opposite side of the tent where a small temporary dance floor had also been assembled, played a silly song to accompany the kiss and everyone cheered. It was the festive atmosphere one wanted to associate with a happy wedding.  
  
“Ok, ladies and gentlemen. In a few moments, the bride and groom will have their official first dance as husband and wife. And at the request of the bride, her sister will sing.” Joey gave her attention to the band leader-slash-DJ, and recognized him from pretty much every function she’d ever attended in Capeside for as long as she could remember. It was strange to think that just yesterday, she was in Paris, and now here she was home again. Her eyes drifted over the crowd of people, pausing on each tuxedo, until they came to rest on him. She swallowed, realized what she was doing, and turned back to the stage.  
  
Sophie stepped forward, looking nervous, but smiling across the tent at her younger sister. “That’s right, just remember, if this sucks, it was her idea.” Everyone laughed and she seemed to relax some. “Ok Jewel, this is for you, my favorite sister.”  
  
“I’m your only sister, you dork,” Jewel called back.  
  
“Thanks for that,” Sophie said as if to herself, resulting in another burst of laughter from the group. This time, Joey heard his laugh unmistakably through the cacophony of voices, it moved over her like warm breeze and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him again. He was watching the stage and chatting with the man next to him with a playful smile. Joey reached for her glass of champagne, noticed the flush of her skin and placed her hand in her lap instead.   
  
The soft rhythm of a strumming guitar floated through the air, and Sophie’s voice, low and harmonious, brought forth the words in lilting melody as the groom took his wife by the hand and led her to the center of the floor. He gently pulled her into his arms and she beamed up at him, her face flushed with happiness. He kissed her forehead, whispered something to her that seemed to make both of their smiles widen, and Joey grumbled to herself about the exasperating mushiness of people in love and took a sip of her champagne, smiling at her own ornery cynicism.  
  
She listened to the words of the song and felt a lump form in her throat as their meaning began to sink in. They spoke of loving someone no matter what, through all the good, all the bad. It was a sweet and funny lyric, and she couldn’t believe all this wedding nonsense was choking her up again! Her gaze drifted to him of its own accord, the words of the song bringing the image of him to her mind. This time, she found him looking back, their eyes met and locked, and her heart seemed to leap forward into a fierce gallop, her stomach fluttering about dizzyingly.  
  
Caught, he smiled at her and the chaos inside of her increased. He toasted her with his glass and she managed to return it with a playful smirk before turning back and pretending to watch the dance. She shook away the feeling she was sure was only nervousness. Sooner or later, he was going to want to confront her about her little disappearing act. That had to be the reason she felt so strange seeing him. Her reaction to Pacey hadn’t been this strong since… nope, she wasn’t going to think about that anymore. Because, it was the past and she was finally free of all those childhood ghosts that had haunted her.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“That is a lot of booty shaking,” Bessie said, taking a seat next to Joey after they had overseen some of the outside clean up.  
  
“I know. It’s disgusting. I can’t believe they are still at it!” Joey responded. The live band had retired and the DJ half of the DJ-slash-band leader took over. Every member of the wedding party was still going strong.  
  
“They do like a party,” Bessie said, smiling at the display, then looking at her sister. “If it’s really so disgusting, then why are you still out here?”  
  
“Free champagne,” Joey said with a shrug of her shoulders, and then to prove her point she took another sip of said beverage. Something on the dance floor caught her attention and she stopped mid sip. “Is that what I think it is?”  
  
“What, Jo?”  
  
“Pacey. Dancing.”  
  
“It would appear so,” Bessie said with a little laugh, watching her sister closely.   
  
“To a fast song?” she said incredulously. “He doesn’t dance.”   
  
“Looks like dancing to me,” Bessie said, laughing. “Well, kinda.”  
  
Joey laughed as she watched him shuffling around with one of the bridesmaids, trying to copy her movements, with his hands on her hips, and his eyes on their feet. “He’s pretty bad.” She felt warmth rise to her cheeks, and she set her champagne aside, deciding she had probably had enough if her pounding heart and suddenly light head were any indication.  
  
“Personally, I’m just glad to see him happy and having fun,” Bessie said, lifting Joey’s discarded flute and taking a sip. “He’s been through a lot this past year.”  
  
Joey looked over at her sister questioningly, but got no response.  
  
“I’m gonna go check on Alexander.” Bessie said, rising from her chair and squeezing Joey’s shoulder before leaving the tent.  
  
Joey turned back to the dance floor, immediately seeking out Pacey’s tall form. He was dancing with the wedding coordinator now, twirling her in and out from his body over and over, making her laugh, and then dipping her low to the ground.   
  
It felt strange to see him being so familiar with someone she didn’t know. All their lives they had pretty much known the same people. But, she was glad to see him happy. She was glad to see him… she was sure she would be glad to see everyone now that she was back home.   
  
What had Bessie meant by her comment? Pacey had a hard year? For the first time since she’d made the decision, Joey regretted that she had cut off all contact with him…them over this last year. Regretted never asking Bessie how he…how they were. She wondered what had happened between the two friends she had left behind. Had they made peace, or gone their separate ways permanently?   
  
She sat lost in her own thoughts as the fast song ended and the plaintive vocals of a soft ballad spilled from the speakers.  
  
“Excuse me, Miss Potter, but I’ve been meaning to ask you something all day.”   
  
She heard his voice unexpectedly, the deep husky tones moving over her skin like a passionate caress; her whole body responded, and she cursed it.  
  
She looked up, searching his face, for what, she didn’t know, but his barriers were up, and they shielded her from his inner thoughts. At one time, she’d learned them, had found the places, the chinks, where she could see through into his heart, but no longer. He had recalibrated them to her particular gaze, and she could no longer penetrate that defense. All she could find was his familiar playful nature and his ever-present friendship.   
  
His ever-present friendship.   
  
It had been ever-present hadn’t it? For all their constant battles, he had always been her friend. In all her memories, he was there, even when she hadn’t wanted him to be.   
  
Which is probably why I’ve so often blocked him out, she thought playfully. He is Pacey, after all.  
  
All of these thoughts passed through her mind in the barest of seconds, as he offered her his large hand and said. “May I have this dance?”  
  
She smiled nervously and gave a little nod, taking the hand he offered, feeling the familiar texture of his palm as her fingertips slid over it, and the warmth that only belonged to Pacey. She stood to her feet, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor.  
  
He walked backwards, leading her by the hand, watching her intently as he did so.   
  
When their feet met with the polished wood of the dance floor, he gently pulled her to him.  
  
His presence overran her senses. She felt the warmth of his hand through the thin material of her blouse as it came to rest on her lower back. The clean scent of him surrounded her, as she came in contact with his chest and their bodies began to move together as one.  
  
“I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me,” she finally managed to say, focusing on some distant point so she could ignore that strange feeling in her stomach as he turned her confidently around the floor. Hmm, he might not be a great fast dancer, but he can slow dance like the devil.  
  
“Well, I’ve been bogged down with head usher-ly type duties,” he said charmingly. “And besides, it’s a two-way street.”  
  
“That’s true,” she said with a soft smile, her eyes finally coming to focus on his. Her brows furrowed slightly at the unexpected tremor that ran through her and her gaze fell to his shoulder.  
  
He sighed softly and she was very aware of his chest expanding out, his breath moving across her cheek and over her hair. The music flowed around them as their bodies moved together with graceful familiarity, and a belonging that Joey’s mind refused to recognize. She had moved on from those youthful loves and preoccupations, she was heading forward in her life. She told herself this for the umpteenth time since she’d seen him climb out of that limo this morning. Then his voice broke the quiet between them as another song began to play; he didn’t release her, and she didn’t move to leave.  
  
“That wasn’t a very nice thing you did, Potter.”  
  
She looked up at him, that regret coming to the forefront of her mind again, when she saw a hint of sadness hovering in his soft, dusk blue eyes. “Pacey, I just, I needed it. I needed to get away from everything, from everyone.” She lifted the hand that had rested against his chest in a small gesture as she spoke. “I needed to exorcize this ghost of my past that seemed to be clinging to me. You and Dawson have been in my life for as long as I can remember, and I needed to see who I was, who I am, on my own. Without all the drama and the feelings…” she stopped, not sure where she was going with that, or if it was a place she wanted to go.  
  
“Hey, I get it,” he said with a gentle smile. “It’s just,” he sighed. “It would’ve been nice to know you were ok. You know. Alive. Not dead in a ditch or lost on a foreign continent.”  
  
“Ok, ok,” she laughed softly. “But it’s not like you have any room to talk…Kurtz.” She finished smacking his chest lightly. He laughed and the sound made her smile broaden.   
  
“Alright, you’ve got me there,” he said, looking at her intently; the smile on his face filling his eyes. They crinkled at the corners and seemed to sparkle. Her stomach betrayed her again and her chest tightened across the middle, catching her breath.  
  
“But it really is great to see you.” He grinned and twirled her around playfully. “So, how was Paris?”  
  
“Paris was amazing!”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yes, I mean, it is so beautiful. So full of history and culture. It’s really overwhelming at first. And everywhere you go, there is something really…” her hands fluttered about as she searched for a word. “Incredible to look at. Art, architecture… and the food!”  
  
“Good?” he asked, his eyebrows rising with the question.  
  
“Yeah,” she said enthusiastically. “Lots of cheese and pastry. I think I gained about twenty pounds. I had to buy new jeans! I’m a cow.”  
  
“Ridiculous,” Pacey said, shaking his head, taking her in another turn, “You look good, Jo.”  
  
“Thanks,” she said with just a hint of the old Joey’s blush. “I have so many pictures to show you!”  
  
“Mmm,” he responded, dimpling up his chin. “Soooo, any cute guys?”  
  
“Yes! Tons, everywhere,” she said dramatically. “And all of them with adorable French accents.”  
  
“Imagine that.”  
  
“Although, there were quite a few with questionable facial hair that I could’ve done without.” Pacey laughed again and it made her smile too, her tongue pressed between her teeth. He smiled back, his eyes looking deeply into hers, and she was lost there, drifting on the sea of his gaze.  
  
The moment was broken by the sound of a man’s voice booming through the speakers, announcing that the bride was about to throw her bouquet and then the happy couple was off.  
  
Pacey said, his gaze traveling over her face briefly, “I need to get the car ready for them.”   
  
It took her a moment to understand the words that escaped his lips as she watched them. She nodded. “Ok, I think I’ll probably go in now. You know where to find me.”  
  
“Yes I do,” he said, stepping away from her. He kissed the backs of her hands and smiled before turning away to stride out of the tent. She watched him leave, taking in the familiar gate, the breadth of his shoulders, the roll of his hips. She didn’t notice the sigh that escaped from between her lips, but she was aware that she had missed the cretin entirely too much.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Joey rolled over, and the first thing she noticed was the abundant amount of bed she was sleeping on. This wasn’t her cot. She frowned in her sleep and patted around with her hand aimlessly.   
  
The next thing to catch her attention was the smell, it smelled like fresh laundry, and…coffee. She smiled and pushed her hair back from her face. She crawled to the side of the bed, swung her legs over the side, finding the plush carpet beneath her feet strange. She felt her way to the door, her eyes only half open, and ventured out into the hallway.  
  
She wondered for a moment which of her flat mates had made the coffee. They were usually even more useless in the morning then she was.   
  
Wait, she wasn’t in Paris anymore; she was home. She smiled at that, ruffled her fingers through her tousled hair, and stumbled into the kitchen, following the scent of maple breakfast sausage, coffee, and something delicious baking.  
  
She stood there and took in the familiar kitchen, grinning like a child, until her gaze fell upon a familiar male figure, which was definitely not Bodie, working at the sink with his back to her.  
  
She didn’t know if she made a sound, but he turned around and smiled when he recognized her, a smile that grew more and more roguish as his gaze swept over her body. She was too surprised to notice.   
  
She frowned. “Pacey?” she asked, her hands dropping to her side. “What are you doing here? It’s like five o’clock in the morning!”  
  
“Um…yeah.” Pacey reached an arm over and scratched the side of his head. “Didn’t Bessie tell you…” he laughed, and didn’t look at her face. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on what he was saying.  
  
“Pacey…”  
  
“I work here now,” he said finally. “I, you know, make the breakfast…fix…things. Do you own a robe, woman?!”  
  
“What?” Joey said, but before the word had fully left her lips, she already knew what the problem was. She didn’t really need to look down to know what she was wearing, but she did, and the eternity it seemed to take for her gaze to travel over her lack of apparel was long enough to relive a memory. Her first morning in the Paris flat, just before classes started, she had awakened to a foreign breakfast, and four of her flat mates walking around completely naked as if it were the most normal thing in the world; one had been in some skimpy lingerie. She herself, had been decked out head to toe, bathrobe, flannel bottoms, slippers, the whole get up. It had been a heck of an adjustment, and though she had never quite been able to bring herself to walk around in the buff, she had learned to love wearing considerably less.  
  
This morning it was sheer white cotton boy cuts and a charcoal cotton camisole.  
  
She looked down, took in her appearance, judged what it probably looked like from a guy’s point of view, and looked at her options. She could be incredibly embarrassed and run back to her room like she would have a year ago, or she could blow it off. It was just a body after all. Everybody had one.  
  
“Bit too much for ya, Pace?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a serious look.  
  
He smiled so big then that it stole her breath completely away, as his gaze finally came to rest fully upon hers. “That really depends.”   
  
“Oh? On what?” she asked, moving past him to the cupboard, reaching up for a coffee mug. She knew she was probably giving him quite a view, and it wasn’t that she wasn’t embarrassed, but she had reached a point where she didn’t let those small insecurities hold her back anymore. Besides, it was just Pacey, and he was safe.  
  
Well, safe on a certain level, she thought as she turned and caught the look in his eyes, extremely dangerous on others.  
  
His voice was low and coarse, but filled with humor as he answered her. “It depends on how much advantage I’m allowed to take of the situation.”  
  
She smiled as she filled her cup with coffee. She pretended to be thinking about it, then turned and leaned back against the counter, her hot mug cradled in front of her, the aroma calling to her. “Absolutely none.”  
  
His smile again, huge and luminous to her, filled his visage. “Then yeah, it’s a lot of too much.”   
  
She rolled her eyes, but the buzzer on the stove interrupted anything she would’ve had to say in response, startling her and making her jump slightly. His eyes teased her as he moved to turn it off. She walked around behind him as he bent over to retrieve his baked goods from the oven, taking in a bit of the view for herself, not even thinking about the boldness this action would require of the former Joey. Paris Joey had a quick thought that she could look at that ass for the rest of her life. It was a joke that her classmate Sabrina had often made whenever she met the latest man of her dreams. But the fact that Joey had had this thought, just now, in reference to Pacey, didn’t make her laugh.  
  
Instead, she went completely cold, her pulse increased erratically, and she found herself almost gasping for breath as she tried to run from the room without drawing his attention. Once out of sight, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, taking slow deep breaths.   
  
“See you at breakfast, Potter!” Pacey called after her, “It’s come as you are!” he laughed. But she couldn’t joke back. She scurried up the stairs to her appointed room and slipped inside, leaning heavily against the door as it closed behind her.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
“So, Joey, I think I’ve waited long enough. As your sister, I demand you give me all the details about this trip,” Bessie said, scooting her chair closer to Joey’s now that the table was cleared and they were alone. “My God, you were over there for a year. What was it like? Tell me everything!”  
  
“Well, it’s completely different, in every way. First, I was excited, then I was kind of freaking out, and then I actually started to like it. The girls I lived with were really great.”  
  
“I don’t care about the girls!” Bessie cried, “Well, I do, but I want to know more about this Juin guy. C’mon, Joey, don’t leave me hanging here. You never told me anything over the phone!”  
  
“Jeez, Bess, whatever happened to the sister who was screaming at me over breakfast because she found condoms in my dresser?” Joey cried a little too loud. She looked quickly into the kitchen where Pacey was washing dishes and saw his shoulders shaking. She leaned into Bessie, lowering her voice, and talking through her teeth. “Now you want to know all about my sex life in France?”  
  
“Hey, you actually had a sex life in France! The least you could do is share a few juicy tidbits with your poor deprived sister who will be stuck right here for the rest of her life, with no sex life at all.”  
  
“Don’t pull that pity party crap on me, Bessie,” Joey smirked. “Fine. Juin was just a friend.” She sipped at her third cup of coffee and turned away. Bessie’s face took on a knowing look.  
  
“Uh uh, I’m not buying it; you can’t lie to me Joey. It’s written all over your face, now spill!”  
  
Joey sighed and cast one more cautious glance toward the kitchen. She didn’t know why she cared if he overheard, but she couldn’t stop herself from lowering her voice. “Ok, Juin and I were very good friends, and a little more.”  
  
“More?”  
  
Joey smiled wickedly. “Oh yeah.”  
  
“Joey!”  
  
“I know Bess, it’s so unlike me to just have completely casual sex, and I’m not even saying it is the right thing, but I have to admit, that I found it to be very…liberating.”  
  
“Liberating as in…” Bessie said, making a few suggestive facial expressions.  
  
Joey laughed out loud and smacked her arm. “No, not like that!” she said with another faltering look toward the kitchen. Ugh! Stop it! “I’ve…um been there before. I just meant that, well, in previous relationships that became sexual, the sex was the point at which something terrible would happen. I kind of started to be a little afraid of it. I mean, it already felt so risky, to open your self up in that way, and then bang! Disaster strikes!” She smiled slyly, “Juin just helped me to see things in a different light.”  
  
Bessie’s eyebrows went up. “I see.”  
  
“Couple that with five bold, brassy, sexually active flat mates, and there is no more room for prudish attitude. Especially when you all share one bedroom!” She took another sip of her coffee. “I’m not saying I’m gonna jump every cute guy I meet from now on or anything, I still think sex should be meaningful.” She added, “I’m just saying I feel a lot less afraid.”  
  
The shrill tones of the telephone interrupted any further discussion. Bessie rose to answer it, but Pacey poked his head out and grabbed it up.  
  
“I got it.” Then into the receiver, “Hello, Potter B&B, Pacey speaking, how may I help you?”  
  
“Ok, Pace. Hey Joey, I’m gonna go get started on the beds,” Bessie said as she left the room.  
  
Joey nodded to her sister and smiled, feeling a very strange sense of peace at the idea of Pacey being here helping Bessie. She watched his face light up in smile. She loved that smile. Good Lord, Joey, snap out of it! She tried to distract herself by picking at one of the leftover blueberry muffins, and just succeeded in reminding herself what she had said to Bessie about them yesterday. Her gaze flew up to Pacey with full realization. That’s why her sister had laughed so hard. She watched as Pacey leaned casually against the wall, crossing his long legs at the ankle and scratching his stomach with his free hand, all of it so familiar, and took a big bite of muffin.  
  
“Hey, man,” Pacey was saying. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be conscious?” He waited for whoever was on the other end and laughed, “So then the festival must’ve gone well if you’re just now coming home…what? Really? Hey, that’s great, not what you wanted, but still…yeah a good start. That’s really great, I’m happy for you, man.” There was another long pause in which he looked up at Joey and smiled at her. “Hey, before you go and get some sleep, there’s someone here you need to talk to?” He walked over and handed the phone to Joey and she frowned at him questioningly as she brought it to her ear.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Joey?!” Dawson’s voice almost shouted through the phone. “You’re home! Hey, I missed you.”  
  
Joey smiled, the familiar sound felt comforting, as it had when she was very young, and the happiness she heard in it was a relief. She sighed softly. “Yep, I’m back. I missed you, too.” She had expected that old familiar confusion to come over her when she spoke to him, especially in light of her reaction to Pacey yesterday, but it just wasn’t there, and that realization made her feel truly free, for the first time in a long while. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Jo, you are never going to believe this, I just got back from this film festival…”  
  
“Did you win?”  
  
“Um…no actually,” he said with a bit of self-deprecating humor lacing his tone. “But I’ve gotten used to it by now. The great news is…or at least I think it could be great news, I’m not sure yet…anyway, there was this TV exec there and he thinks that the soap operatic nature of our mutual childhood is perfect for the next big must see teen drama.”  
  
“Wow! You’re kidding!”  
  
“Nope, apparently we are quite a neurotic bunch.”  
  
“Well, that’s true enough.”  
  
“So he asked me to rewrite it into a TV script and then he wants to see what kind of response we get. It could be big!”  
  
“That’s really great, Dawson, I’m really happy for you.”  
  
“Thanks, Joey. But hey, enough about me what about you? Fresh from Paris, France and nothing interesting to tell your soul mate? I’m expecting a t-shirt or something, I hope you realize that.”  
  
Joey laughed, it had been so long since she’d had a light-hearted, angst-free conversation with Dawson. “I may have seen an item or two that made me think of you,” she said slyly. She heard Dawson make a funny noise on the other end of the line. “What was that?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, I was just yawning. Not because you are boring me or anything,” he laughed, “I just haven’t gone to sleep yet and it’s really starting to catch up with me.”  
  
“Ok, well, I’ll let you go so you can get some sleep,” she said softly. “Then I can call you later, or you can call me, and I can tell you about my dull and uneventful trip to Paris and have your undivided attention.”  
  
“Sure, Jo. You had fun; I can hear it in your voice.”  
  
“Yeah, I did. And I promise to tell you everything. Later. Right now, you need to go to sleep.”  
  
“Yes, mom.”  
  
“Ha, ha, Dawson.”  
  
“Bye, Joey.”  
  
“Bye.” She heard him sigh and then there was the click just before the line went dead. She returned the phone to its place, noticing Pacey was no longer around. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t let him say goodbye to Dawson, but she also remembered the friendly tone that had been in Pacey’s voice while they were speaking. Maybe things had gotten better while she was gone. That thought made her smile. She wanted it to be true.   
  
She walked to her room and decided to put her postcards for Dawson in the mail today so he would get them as soon as possible. She would also mail off everyone else’s, and give Bessie hers. She looked the piles of postcards over, carefully separating them into piles. She picked up the pile of cards for Pacey thinking she could just hand him his as well, and wondered as she lifted them why it seemed he had more than anyone else.  
  
She flipped one over, read the back, and grimaced. She felt a small tremor run through her body. Had she really written this? She read several of them, finding them all to sound full of wistfulness and longing. She couldn’t give these to him! She sat down on the bed, looking at the front of one of the cards. It was of a beautiful sailboat, just like the one Pacey had shown her in Florida. The one he wanted to own some day. She felt her stomach sink to her feet as she realized her predicament.   
  
She didn’t want to throw them all away. Would he know he was the only one who hadn’t gotten any? Maybe she should just give them to him. Maybe she was just being paranoid to think they seemed to imply anything more than friendship. Pacey knew how she felt about the subject of “them”; he wouldn’t read anything in to the postcards. Would he? A sudden panic rose in her chest, pounding in her heart, pulsing through her veins, almost choking her with its intensity. She took a few deep breaths. She couldn’t do it!   
  
Her hands trembled as she reached over, biting down on her lower lip, and dropped the entire pile into the trashcan next to her bed.  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  
  
  
Joey sat on the edge of the dock, overlooking the creek, the homey sight bringing her a peace, and settling her insides. She took a deep breath and inhaled the pungent aroma of the marsh grasses, the soft scent of the breeze, and the crisp fragrance of evergreen trees, the familiar scents of her world. No matter how much she hated this town, she realized she also loved it. How could she not? Good memories were always mixed with bad, and now that the hurt and wounded little girl wasn’t clinging to her shoulder any longer, she could see it.  
  
She heard his footsteps on the dock, knowing them instantly and feeling strangely unsettled because of it. She pushed her hair behind her ear, and didn’t look up as he sat down beside her.  
  
He was quiet, his legs dangling above the water right next to hers, their thighs almost touching. She imagined she could feel the warmth of him reaching out to her through the insignificant distance. She finally looked over at him, notice the tight black t-shirt, taking in how it fit snugly over his pecs and biceps. She swallowed slowly and looked back at the water.  
  
“So, where did you go?” she asked.  
  
“Back to my apartment.”  
  
“Oh,” she said, smiling and looking up at him again. “You got your own apartment? You’re free from Dougie?” she grinned. “Do you have a roommate?”  
  
“Well, there’s not really room for a roommate. I mean. To call it an apartment is almost some sort of housing sacrilege, because it’s really more like a large closet, but hey,” he raised a hand and shrugged. “It’s all mine.” He smiled charmingly and again she found herself responding to that incredible smile.  
  
“Well,” she said on a little laugh. “Does this closet have a kitchen?”  
  
“Of sorts,” he said, laughing as well. “Why do you ask?”  
  
“Because, I got you something,” she said, holding out a folded piece of paper, he took it and she said, “It’s a recipe. For fish soup.” She shrugged. “I know that sounds silly, seeing as how, living in this little marina town, we’ve had fish soup almost once a week for our entire lives. But I was eating at this tiny little restaurant on one of those little cliché’ side streets you read about, and they made this fish soup that was absolutely incredible, and I thought of you.” She shrugged again. “So I begged the chef to please give me the recipe.”  
  
Pacey smiled and looked at the paper for what seemed like a long moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. “Thanks, Jo.”  
  
“You’re welcome. Here,” she said quickly. “I also wrote you a couple of quick postcards while I was there,” she said and handed three lonely cards over before she could talk herself out of it. She had gone back to her room and scoured over the words looking for any she felt safe giving him, and these were the only survivors. He grinned and pocketed them.  
  
“I’ll read them later.” She nodded and there was silence once more.   
  
“School starts next week. It’s going to feel so strange going back.”  
  
“Big let down after a year in Paris, huh?”  
  
“Yes and no, I guess. Mostly, it’s because I feel different, you know? Like I cut loose some demon that had plagued me, and when I go back this time, it will be real. Also, it’s my last year. I can’t believe it really, after all that work to get into college. I’m gonna have to expand my dream.”  
  
“Yes, you will, but you’ll do it, Jo. I have faith in you.”  
  
“Thanks, Pacey,” she said, patting his hand and then leaving her hand on top of his without realizing it. “So, what about you? What are your plans?”  
  
“Well,” he said, scratching his head thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m… starting college this semester. I know it’s crazy, and I’m really freaked out about it,” he played gently with her fingers and she realized where her hand was and slowly pulled it back. “I mean, school wasn’t exactly my strongpoint, but I think it’s what I need to do.”  
  
“Wow, Pacey…” She had to swallow the huge lump that was forming in her throat before she could even finish formulating a thought. Why was she so choked up at the thought of Pacey planning for his future? The idea that he was taking steps to really make something happen for himself made her feel so overwhelmed with…what was that?   
  
She looked down at his feet swinging back and forth. “If that’s what you want, then that’s great. I want you to be happy.”  
  
“Happy is a strange state. I haven’t quite figured out the balance yet.”  
  
“What do you mean? What balance?”  
  
“The balance of being happy and yet still unsatisfied.”  
  
“You’re not satisfied?”  
  
“With my life at this point?” he shook his head. “No.”  
  
“But you’re happy?”  
  
“Mmm, I think I might be,” he said. “At least, for this moment, anyway.” He laughed and she joined him.  
  
“Well, that’s something, I suppose. I mean who knows what could happen tomorrow. They might discontinue your favorite hamburger at Billy Bob’s.”  
  
“I know! Or my favorite perfume!” he mock-gasped, bringing a large hand to his chest in a gesture of dismay.  
  
Joey nodded mournfully. “Those types of things can really throw you for a loop.”  
  
“Yes, they can.”  
  
“So where is your apartment? Can I see it?”  
  
“Sure, it’s over on 8th.” She grimaced and he laughed, “I know scary, but so far it hasn’t been so bad. And it’s close enough that I can walk here in the morning. Actually, I’m on my way to my other job right now, so I’ll have to arrange a grand tour for another date.”  
  
“Oh,” she said disappointedly, then, “you have two jobs?”  
  
“Yeah, well, a guy has to pay the bills.”  
  
She scrunched her lips up to the side. “Sorry Pacey.”  
  
“Yeah, me too, but that’s life. I’m doing ok…except…”  
  
“What?” she asked, leaning into him with concern written in her eyes. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and his eyelids drifted closed for a moment.  
  
“I’ve been debating with myself over whether or not to say anything to you, but now that I see you again, I realize that it has to be said. I don’t want there to be anymore deceptions or false impressions.” He took a deep breath and sighed.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
He looked back at her, his blue gaze intent and completely open and what she saw there both took her breath away and scared her beyond reason. “I need you to know, that I will always be your friend, and nothing will ever change that, Jo, nothing. I promise. But I need you to know something else as well and it’s a little scary.”  
  
“What is it? Are you ok?”  
  
“It’s simple, Jo,” he said. “I love you.”   
  
Joey felt her heart leap into her throat, pounding insistently at those words from his mouth, his voice low and husky with emotion. He can’t do this! - was the only thought that echoed in her brain. “Pacey, don’t…”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, Joey. Because, whether I say it or not, I still feel the same way.” He reached up and took a streamer of her hair in his fingers rubbing it gently. “And I don’t have the right... I know I’m not supposed to say it. I know I’m breaking the rules here, but if I didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t change the fact that I love you. I am completely and totally in love with you, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.   
  
“I’m not going to pull any soul mate crap. I’m not even going to say we belong together, because I don’t know that. I only know that I love you. I love you. My heart is yours, Jo.” She started to shake her head needing to deny the longing that suddenly filled her being at his words, but he interrupted. “It is. Now, and probably forever. I’ve tried like hell to get the damn thing to come home to me, but it just doesn’t work. Maybe, because it already is home, with you.   
  
“So, it’s up to you what you do with it. You know where to find me if you ever feel… that you could… share it with me.”   
  
“Pacey…I…”  
  
“It’s ok.” His hand cupped her cheek as he spoke, his thumb brushing over her skin gently, and she trembled under the sensation. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want you to say anything. I just needed you to know.” He leaned in, and kissed her softly and she couldn’t pull away, didn’t want to pull away. His lips brushed hers in the lightest of touches, his warmth spreading over her, leaving her wanting more as he pulled back. “So…I, uh, have to go to work, now, but I hope that I will see you later?”  
  
Joey had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Pacey…  
  
“Ah, ah, ah. I meant it.” He kissed her swiftly one more time, this time his lips fully pressed against hers, vibrating through her like electric current, over in a second. “Don’t say anything.”  
  
She looked at him in irritation as he stood to his feet, and he laughed. “See, there’s my Potter.” He grinned at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.” He gave her a little wave, turned and walked away heading across her yard, up her driveway and out to the street.  
  
She felt a sudden aching in her chest as she watched him walk away, as if he was leaving with a part of her that she needed. She didn’t understand! She had been so sure that she had put away all the angst of her childhood, all the crushes, the unrequited love and the drama that she had lived in, but instead of her conflict over Pacey disappearing, it had only seemed to increase.  
  
She brought her hand to her forehead and drew a deep breath. What if her feelings for Pacey had nothing to do with her childhood, and everything to do with…  
  
She felt it, an erratic beating of her heart. It told her to chase after him. She could hear it so clear it was like a voice calling out to her, but she refused. It couldn’t be Pacey. She wouldn’t take that chance, not with him. She couldn’t. She needed him.  
  
She turned back to the creek after he had disappeared from view. The soft breeze blew over her gently, ruffling her hair, cold against her cheeks. She brought her hands up to warm them and found they were wet with tears. She wiped them away brusquely with trembling hands, and wondered why she didn’t seem to feel her heart beating at all anymore.  
  
  
  
 **The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got this far, then let me say thank you so much for reading. This is actually the first, and only, story I've written of this length and, in spite of it's many, many flaws, I'm still pretty proud of it. Thank you again for reading and have a great day. :)


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